Conflicting Hearts
by TheChimeraSculptress
Summary: Lots of Marie/Logan angst...but it does have a happy ending!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Lots of Logan and Marie angst basically. Does have a happy ending though.

Written years ago but thought I'd upload again.

* * *

**_Fighting Emotions..._**

Logan sat alone at the kitchen table, beer in one hand and cigar in the other - the usual 2am routine after he had woken from the nightmare.

The room was in darkness although the moonlight streamed in through the open windows bathing the furniture in a soft white hue. He could almost feel its touch the length of his back, like a woman's sensual caress.

He liked the half-light. The moonlight. It brought out something primal in him that was totally unconnected to the Wolverine: an awareness of being a part of a bigger picture. For a fleeting moment the idea made him feel significant somehow. Playing his role, for the greater good he hoped, in a world that was becoming more and more fucked up.

He scrubbed a hand over his face realising that his short time at the Xavier Institute, and moreover as part of the X-Men, was already affecting him in a way that seemed alien. He wasn't used to all this thinking, all this deliberating - only functioning - existing. Moving from day to day with as little fuss as possible: eat, drink, drive, fight, fuck, sleep.

Simple.

He lifted his beer bottle to his mouth and swallowed down the last of the bitter tasting liquid.

Simple, he repeated to the silence of his mind. Just how the Wolverine liked it.

He slammed the bottle back down onto the table.

So when had it all become so fucking complicated?

Jean had been gone a month now and the school was still weighted by grief. Scott, quite naturally, had bore the brunt of that grief and had temporarily left the mansion for some time alone. To his irritation Logan found himself missing the poker assed team leader, surprised to be feeling guilt at coming between him and Jean during those last few months, tainting what little time they would have had left.

In hindsight, he realised that he had never loved Jean exactly. He had cared for her a great deal but was more in lust than love, the Wolverine hungering the challenge, the need to conquer.

Only she had not submitted.

In a perverse kind of way he admired her all the more for that.

He had thought the rejection would've proved a bitter blow to his ego, but after all that had happened he just felt a great sense of loss. For himself. For the school. Even for Scott.

He wasn't used to caring for people and didn't know whether he liked it or not. It left a strange taste in his mouth. Was a bitter pill to swallow. Because caring was what was provoking all this constant thinking.

The Wolverine demanded he pack his bags and get back on the road, where he could just go back to existing. Everyday he almost gave in to him but something held him back.

Marie?

He'd never forget that horrific moment in the X-Jet when he had thought he had lost her. Seeing her clinging onto that chair for dear life, hearing her scream above the wail of the wind, knowing that he was helpless this time, that he couldn't save her - it had all but yanked out his heart.

And then, for a split second that seemed like an eternity, as death swept up to triumphantly claim her, their eyes had met and locked, and he had seen a moment of calm amidst her terror. He knew then that she had accepted the inevitable - she even offered a hint of a smile - but it was a sad smile, accompanied by a wash of deep regret, that etched itself so clearly upon her face that, if she had have died, it would have haunted him for the rest of his days.

But she hadn't died - Jean had.

He lifted his cigar from the ashtray and brought it to his lips, sucking in the sweet poison as if his life depended upon it.

But why regret? Dare he hazard a guess?

He blew out the smoke and watched it writhe and gyrate in the half-light, momentarily mesmerized by its seductive motion. It reminded him of her. How she might move beneath him...

He shook his head angrily, alarmed by his chain of thought. She was a kid, god-damn-it. Barely eighteen.

His gaze snapped up to the door then, his heightened senses detecting movement. Sniffing the air he was taken aback to catch Marie's scent. Just a hint but it was becoming stronger as he realised she was on her way to the kitchen.

Fuck.

She padded into the room in a black velvet dressing gown, her white locks of hair vivid in the half-light. Switching on the light she regarded him casually, as if she had expected to find him there.

"What do you want, Marie?"

"Why do you always sit in the dark?"

Logan blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. "I asked you first."

She headed for the fridge, opening it to retrieve a carton of orange juice. "I was thirsty."

"Liar."

She poured herself a drink regardless, and sat opposite him at the kitchen table.

Meeting his eyes she shrugged. "I was worried about you."

"Don't be."

She ignored him. "Ever since Jean - " she faltered. "Ever since Jean died, you've been this closed book." She offered him a fleeting smile. "Not that you were ever an open book to begin with but we did get to see a few pages."

Logan frowned, wondering whether everyone thought too much. "So?"

She sighed. "So - talk to me. Open up to me. I know you better than anyone, after all." She tapped the side of her head. "Got you in here, haven't I."

Despite his dark countenance he conjured a hint of a smile for her benefit. "Sorry about that, kid."

"I wouldn't change it for the world," she reassured softly.

It was almost painful to run his eyes over her face - so young; so innocent still.

He really didn't think he could handle this tonight. Couldn't stand Marie so close to him like this, her scent wafting over him - a bittersweet torment. He felt his anger rise. "Stop loving me, Marie. It's sick and twisted."

He hated seeing the hurt on her face. "Are you saying that _I'm_ sick and twisted?"

"No," he insisted quickly. "Just any ideas you have of us - of us being together."

"Who say's so?" She watched him anxiously. "You?"

He peered down at the table, unable to meet her eyes. "Yeah."

"Liar!"

"Touché," he whispered beneath his breath.

For a long time silence reigned as a biting tension gathered around them. Marie sipped her orange juice, watching him determinedly, whilst he stared at the label of his beer bottle - anywhere but at her.

"Can I ask you something, Logan?" Her voice literally made him jump it came so unexpected.

Although he kept his head bowed, his eyes flicked onto her.

"Did you - " she started, and his brow creased in tense anticipation. "Did you love Jean?"

Logan felt the room close in around him and for a moment he found it hard to breath. Standing up suddenly, he pushed his chair out noisily from under him. "Leave it, Marie," he warned, making to leave the room.

"Why should I?" she snapped, twisting in her chair to stare after him.

"Because I said so!"

"And since when have you had any say over what I do?"

He didn't answer, continuing his journey.

"Where are you going?" Marie demanded.

"To bed," he growled.

"_Take me with you!,"_ she blurted desperately and he knew her words had come out unintentionally, in the heat of the moment. At the same time the implications of what she said sent a fire surging through his veins. "Marie," he warned for a second time, voice suddenly hoarse and gravelly.

But he knew that if he looked at her, if he met her eyes, he would be lost.

Fighting to restrain the Wolverine within him, who wanted nothing more than to drag her from that chair and take her hard and fast against the wall, he turned and walked away. As the darkness of the corridor devoured him he realised he had no choice now.

He had to go back to just existing.


	2. Chapter 2

**_One Year Later  
A Reminder..._**

Logan headed back north - back to Canada - where the air was fresh, the snow light underfoot and the forests like old friends. Somewhere he could hike for miles and not meet a single soul. And where the biting cold kept him numb, at least for most of the time.

He was uninterested now in seeking out his mysterious past. Stryker couldn't have summed it up any better at Alkali Lake and Logan didn't doubt his words, not under the circumstances. Fear always paralysed the ability to lie.

And perhaps he _had_ been a beast back then - the animal that Stryker had so colourfully described - it didn't matter any more. _Now_ was what mattered - no past, no future - only the present.

Only existing?

He recalled his exchange with Jean in the X-Jet, on that fateful day at Alkali Lake:

"You OK?" she had asked, concerned, after he had left Stryker tied to the wall whilst his dog-tags - his final link to the past - sunk into the snow like some sort of mental closure as he had walked away.

"I am now," he had reassured. And he hadn't been lying either.

A lot had become clear that day, in the face of so much tragedy.

And back on the road the Wolverine had found a source of contentment again - just existing - whilst Logan had found a new sense of peace. True, he had his old life back - not exactly as privileged as the Xavier Institute what with its seedy motels and dingy bars - but it was no longer full of conflict, no longer weighted by the questions. And to his relief, the nightmares began to become less frequent.

It seemed strange to wake up and not feel like shit.

He returned to the cage fighting as a means of financial support - he couldn't live on air alone, after all - but he was no longer fuelled by anger this time. Initially this concerned him, worrying that it might weaken his performance, but he began channelling a different emotion into each brutal punch, every vicious strike - frustration.

_~Take me with you!~_

Marie's outburst, however accidental that night almost a year ago, had scorched him like fire, each word branding itself into his mind. He heard them wherever he went, whatever he was doing, in fresh nightmares. They became the new torment in his life.

Although a torment he could tolerate - just - for the torment was of his own making. Dare he admit it? Regret? Regret at walking away that night?

Deep down he feared that her words, together with his regret, forged that sense of frustration that prevented him from simply _existing_.

But then, perhaps frustration was just anger in another guise, he contemplated with a frown as he chewed down upon a cigar, recovering from his latest fight. Perhaps all negative emotions inevitably boiled down to that inner rage that simmered below the surface, never entirely quenched, even when you kidded yourself that you _had_ finally conquered it. He rolled his eyes, realising that he was _thinking_ again. Leaving the Institute hadn't stopped the endless deliberating - being alone again had only fuelled it - made it flame.

Damn that place.

And damn fire and flames and burning - and Marie - for she was the root of it all. She filled him with so much heat that not even the fight groupies could sate it anymore. Yet it was a different kind of need, not solely physical. A craving for a purity that was so far beyond his comprehension that he thought that if he were to even touch it he might somehow taint its perfection.

Downing the last of his beer he sometimes wished that Marie had never gained control over her mutation. At least then, the barrier that stood between them had been set in stone - touch her and you die. Now the only barrier separating them consisted of a few hundred miles.

"I'll have another beer," he called gruffly across the empty bar to the bartender, who was in the process of cleaning glasses. The man nodded and reached for a bottle on the shelf behind him.

"One hell of a performance you gave tonight," he complimented as he stood before Logan, easing off the bottle lid with an opener.

The old Logan would have merely grunted but the Institute and all its morals had irritatingly left its mark. "Thanks," he offered grudgingly.

The bartender slid his beer across to him, Logan's acknowledgment making him more daring. "But you don't seem to be enjoying your victory?"

Logan cast him a dark look and the Wolverine was satisfied to note a flicker of unease cross the man's face. "I just care about getting paid," he growled, raising an eyebrow to serve as a prompt. The bartended caught on and turned to fumble around beside the till before turning and slapping a wad of notes on the bar top.

Logan snatched up the money and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

As he reached to retrieve his cigar from the ashtray he hesitated mid-action and sniffed, suddenly catching the strong smell of cheap perfume. It preceded the familiar click of heels that always followed him after a fight.

He knew immediately that it was one of the groupies - they all smelt the same. Like trash. And stale sex. He refused to look up as a woman claimed the stool beside him.

"Hey there, handsome."

He rolled his eyes. They even sounded the same.

"You looking for a fun way to wind down, Wolverine?" she drawled, over emphasising his name in a way that grated on his nerves.

He loathed the innuendo in her voice, the lust dripping off her words like rancid honey. She reminded him of everything he used to be. Everything he desperately wanted to forget.

He lifted his gaze with the intension of telling her he wasn't interested but the words stuck in his throat when he finally saw her.

~Her hair ~

His frustrations roared up through him and before he could stop himself he had shot a hand across to fist one of the locks of shocking white that stood out strikingly against the dark brown of her hair to frame her painted up face.

"Hey!" she protested angrily, trying to recoil back from him but only causing herself further discomfort.

"Your hair?" he snarled. For a moment he couldn't think straight. Knew he was acting crazily. But seeing her hair, so like Marie's -

"What about my hair?" she asked, grimacing in pain. "It's a style, that's all. A fashion." He smelt fear beneath her rank perfume. "Are you going to let me go?"

Conscious of the bartender's presence he quickly released his grip and retreated back to his stool.

"What the hell is your problem?" she demanded, glaring at him as she rubbed her head and tried to compose herself. "Haven't you ever seen someone with dyed hair before?"

"I'm sorry," he blurted, and genuinely was, despite his low regard for her sort. "You - your hair - just reminded me of someone." He looked at her again and realised that the dye was actually more yellow than he had initially thought, his memories of Marie almost creating the illusion of it being white.

She regarded him warily. "Yeah, well, I'm not _her_ and that fucking hurt!"

Abandoning his beer Logan stood up, realising that if he didn't get out of this place quickly he'd probably end up fucking her just because of that hair.

He felt her eyes burning into his back as he stalked out of the bar and his heightened senses picked up her "What a nutter!" angrily expressed to the bartender just before he stepped out into the night.

Running a hand through his dishevelled hair he scrunched his eyes shut. He felt lost. Didn't know where he belonged. And as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, as much as the Wolverine insisted he was better off alone, he _wanted_ to belong.

But could he face going back? Back to caring?

Forcing himself to open his eyes he started to walk through the night-drenched snow, a new layer having fallen during his time in the bar so that each footstep crunched beneath the weight of his boots.

He realised suddenly that going back wasn't going to be the problem. The problem was whether or not Marie would _accept_ him back after the way he had run out on her for a second time.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Anger..._**

"To your left, Rogue!"

Throwing herself to the ground with a grunt, Marie ducked into a side roll, successfully dodging her attacker - a large padded lever that suddenly swung out from the grey metallic wall - activated by Hank McCoy in the control tower that projected from one corner of the ceiling.

She grinned her satisfaction as her heart pounded in her ears and the blood rushed through her veins like molten fire. Adrenaline overwhelmed her senses like a drug induced high and together with her excitement and a hint of fear, created an intoxicating cocktail that nothing had yet to rival.

As she stood a moment to catch her breath she realised that it was only during these training sessions, led by Scott in the Danger Room, that she truly felt alive. Felt as if she finally had a purpose.

And it was usually the only time she could forget about Logan.

"Get a move on, Rogue!" one of her teammates hollered impatiently across the room, and she recognised Bobby's voice. "We're running out of time!"

Shaking Logan from her thoughts she ran to the nearest checkpoint and quickly pressed down the completion button, mentally preparing herself for the next obstacle.

She hesitated, looking anxiously around her. Where was checkpoint number six?

But instead of focusing on the task at hand, Logan's face chose that moment to flash into her mind - those piercing hazel eyes, forever alert; that unruly hair, destined never to be tamed; and that all too familiar frown of perpetual discontent. She could almost smell the heady smoke that drifted up from the cigar his image chewed upon.

"You're not focusing, Rogue!" she heard Scott despair from the side-lines just as a second lever suddenly swung up as if from nowhere. It hit her square in the face, instantly knocking her to the floor with a thump. It may have been well padded but it sure packed one hell of a punch.

Winded, she remained still on the ground, catching her breath. Her nose throbbed but she knew she wasn't hurt. The Professor made sure that the Danger Room was safe for the younger students although some of the older X-Men had been known to exit a programme a little worst for the wear.

Scott was right, she realised dismally, as she felt her heart slow and the adrenaline slowly begin to ebb away. She wasn't focusing. Not today.

Try as she might she just couldn't forget Logan. Not under the circumstances.

For tonight would be the anniversary of that _event_ in the kitchen, where she had laid everything on the line and he had rejected her - had walked away. Had actually left that very night without even saying goodbye and with no indication of whether he was ever likely to return. Except for a brief telepathic message to the Professor, explaining that he, like Scott, needed some downtime after all that had happened, he had left her nothing to grasp; little to hope for.

"Rogue! Are you all right?" The concern was predominant in Scott's voice as it echoed across the massive room, but she somehow couldn't summon the desire to move. It seemed easier to just lie there, staring up at the ceiling and allow her breathing to return to normal, then to get up and have her face read like the open book it was.

She didn't want it to be an open book. She really didn't. She hated the gossiping behind her back. Those who said she was pining like some abandoned puppy. But she just couldn't seem to close it. Couldn't stop hurting.

Couldn't stop loving him.

"Rogue!" Scott seemed close to panicking now and in no time at all he was bending over her, those distinctive ruby red lenses of his checking her over.

"I'm all right," she reassured as she finally sat up. "No broken bones." Several other members of the team - Bobby, Jubilee and Kitty - had also joined their leader by now.

Scott helped her to her feet but she wished he would just leave her alone, although she felt bad for thinking it. They had become good friends over these past few months, were perhaps even edging towards something more, but deep down she knew it wasn't what she really wanted.

Scott wasn't Logan.

She forced a strained smile. "Do you mind if I sit this one out? You're right - I am unfocused. I'll just get someone hurt."

"I'm more concerned that _you'll_ get hurt," Scott offered gently. He searched her face and she saw him tighten that chiselled jaw of his, as if he knew exactly what was wrong. He finally turned to the rest of the group. "We'll call that a day, guys. Thanks."

There was a varied response - from sighs of relief to tuts of disappointment - as the students filtered out of the Danger Room. Scott turned back to Marie. "Rogue?" Everyone called her Rogue. She had allowed no one except Logan to ever call her Marie. He had been away for so long now that she missed hearing her real name.

Scott gently touched her arm. "Do you want to talk about what it is that's bothering you?" The jaw tightened again. "Or can I guess?"

She took a deep breath as she stared at him, acknowledging just how different he was to Logan, not only physically but also in every little thing he said or did. Scott was always willing to _talk_ - to discuss feelings, even if it was still in that restrained way of his; whilst Logan on the other hand found even sharing general conversation difficult enough, without adding _feelings_ into the equation. "No, Scott. I just - just want to be alone right now."

He sighed his obvious disappointment. "Forget about him, Rogue. He's not worth it."

That touched a nerve and her anger flared. "Oh, and I suppose you are?"

He looked hurt but he ignored the accusations in her words. "Everyone hates seeing you like this. It's been a year. He hasn't been in contact with the professor once."

"So?" she demanded, hands slipping to her hips defiantly.

"So, if he cared for you in the slightest he would've made some contact by now."

His word came like a slap in the face although she knew that there was a lot of truth in what he said. It was something _she_ even tried to tell herself every day, tried to make herself accept, however hard she knew it would be. But she _couldn't_ accept it. Couldn't face the fact that she might have meant nothing to Logan.

"Well, there's not a lot I can say to that," she snapped angrily. "You've really got it all worked out, haven't you, Scott?"

She turned abruptly and began to walk away, unable to tolerate another syllable of Scott's words of wisdom, however earnestly meant.

Grimacing, she pulled at the neck of her uniform, feeling uncomfortable now.. It stuck to her damp sweaty skin - stifling her - and she wanted nothing more than to peel it off and retreat beneath a scorching hot shower - somewhere where she could try to purge herself of all emotion.

"I want to help you, Rogue," Scott called out to her as she slipped through the doorway, in the direction of the showers.

"Give it up, One Eye," she threw back icily, purposely calling him a name that she knew touched a nerve because Logan always used to call him it, whilst at the same time hating herself for being such a bitch. Scott didn't deserve such hostility and she wished that he wouldn't always make himself such an easy target - constantly being there for her, tolerating her cruel words. Sometimes she was at a loss as to why he put up with her at all.

Surely he realised that she could never feel the same way about him, as she did Logan?

After she had showered and changed she walked down to the lake. Anywhere she could put some distance between herself and the Institute. Although she thought of the place as home now, she realised that it could sometimes stifle just as much as those blasted uniforms.

And she was sick of eyes watching her from every corner - sympathetic eyes, despairing eyes, and eyes hidden behind ruby red lenses that wanted more than she was prepared to offer.

She sighed as she lifted her face to the fresh autumn breeze, the recent drop in temperature filling her with nostalgia as she recalled her brief time in Canada. She sometimes wondered what might have happened if Logan hadn't come along when he did. Would the X-Men still have picked her up somewhere along the line?

In her mind though, _ he_ had been her saviour, not them. Her knight in shining adamantium? Despite her anger, she couldn't help but smile at the thought, realising with a defeated roll of her eyes, that it was a hopeless case. Hate and love travelled though her veins in equal measure where Logan was concerned, but love always seemed to reach her heart first.

Was that where he was now? she considered with a touch of wistfulness. Canada? If he had to be anywhere that was the place she liked to visualise - imagining him roaming great expanses of wilderness blanketed by deep white snow. He seemed to belong amongst those towering pines, where the air was clear and people were few and far between. Like a wild animal, the Wolverine needed to be free. Solitary.

As she reached the lake she stopped to stare out across the still grey waters, wondering if that was why he had left - to be free again. She had always felt that he wasn't entirely settled at the Institute. It wasn't in his nature to be bound to only one place. The idea soothed her slightly but did little to console her.

"Oh Logan," she whispered mournfully. "I miss you so much." She reached up to her neck, still feeling somehow incomplete without his dog-tags. But they were at the bottom of Alkali Lake now. She hung her head, feeling the tears prick at her eyes. Along with Jean. She may have been jealous of the beautiful doctor but would never have wished her dead. And in her own way, missed her desperately.

Marie narrowed her eyes, the beauty before her seeming mocking somehow - little more than a façade. Life could be a bitch sometimes. And it expected you to carry on regardless, carry your pain with a smile of indifference.. Perhaps everyone was hurting in some way or another. Perhaps it was necessary to make the good times really seem like good times.

Anger rising up from within her again, she reached down to pick up a large pebble, throwing it with all of her might at the water. It landed with an impressive splash sending out a ricochet of ripples out across the stillness, and she watched, fascinated, for several minutes until it finally calmed again.

She found herself envying the calmness, yearning to still the conflicts within her mind, wondering if Logan had in fact got it right all along - just walking away.

She peered back up at the institute and wondered if it was really home, or she was just kidding herself because she had nowhere else to go. She thought again of Canada - of the balmy scent of pine and the mile upon mile of stark whiteness - and felt a glimmer of hope spark within her.

Dare she go back?

She realised suddenly that she had no choice now because continuing like this was eating away at her more and more each day. Killing her slowly but mercilessly. She was losing Marie to the rage of the Rogue and knew that if she didn't find peace soon it would inevitably devour her.

A part of her knew that she would only find that peace in Canada.

With or without Logan.


	4. Chapter 4

**_An Old Friend..._**

With a high-pitched scream, the eagle circled Logan several times, soaring majestically through clouds that were weighted with snow, before diving back towards the earth to weave swiftly in and out of the treetops.

Chewing down upon his cigar, Logan raised an eyebrow as he stopped to observe the bird, allowing it to indulge him with a closing skyward swoop and dramatic plunge before finally retreating north towards the mountains that claimed the horizon.

A bemused smile tugged at his lips as he watched it shrink smaller and smaller until it was nothing but a black dot against the dull white of the sky..

_Always the show off,_ he thought affectionately as he started walking again, secretly pleased that his return hadn't gone unnoticed. But his smile twitched irritably when he realising that his cigar had gone out yet again. Giving up on a smoke altogether he returned the stub into his jacket pocket with an agitated roll of his eyes.

He breathed deeply, inhaling air that was so pure, so biting, that it literally numbed the back of his throat. It possessed a rawness that echoed of time and all things organic. Man and nature. Life and death.

Purity?

There was only one other thing that came to mind when he reflected upon purity but he realised that he needed to take some time out from that avenue of thought - it only fuelled the frustration.

And right now he needed calm.

Needed to remain centred.

The forest was so still, so quiet, that the silence cut like glass. It was a bittersweet agony to his heightened senses, bitter because it felt like a thousand razor sharp shards were attacking his ears at once, and sweet because it was the purest sound that man could ever hope to experience.

He shook his head miserably, running a hand through his hair to dislodge the new layer of snowflakes that had settled upon the unruly spikes. That word again - pure. It haunted him in so many subtle yet persistent ways recently that everything seemed to be pure in some shape or form whether it was the bottled water he had purchased that morning or the snowy wilds he now roamed through. Was he even being subconsciously reminded of her now, he wondered restlessly?

He pulled up the collar of his jacket as the cold closed in around him. And could he ever take her down from that out of reach pedestal he had placed her upon? If he couldn't he feared he would never be able to touch her, to love her, in the way that he longed to.

As he waded through the drifts, he felt like that lost soul again, a lost soul that somehow belonged in this wilderness of wood and earth and water but was now desperately searching for the path out.

He felt like a traitor. When he had set out that morning he had not realised that he was coming to say goodbye. To this wilderness that had embraced him, claimed him, long ago, when he had fled from a nightmare of syringes and masked men.

He heard the Wolverine howl its despair within him at the revelation and he knew it didn't want to leave this place again. It had never wanted to leave, had put up such a fight to ignore humanity's call all those years ago after he had first escaped the lab. Logan closed his eyes as he fought the battle within himself. Between man and beast.

He felt he was letting the Wolverine down too, severing it from its roots - the place where it truly felt alive. But it didn't understand love, what it could do to a man, what joy it could give to a time-wearied heart. And he couldn't let go of the Wolverine as well as this place -he didn't know how. Suppressing it wasn't the same as erasing its existence. And even if he was suddenly granted the power to make his alter ego disappear for good, he didn't think he could now. Although he despised it at times it had grown into a reassuring sixth sense, always alert when the man was not quite so focused. Always strong when fear made people walk away. And quite simply it had become a comfort during those long nights when sleep wouldn't come or dreams woke him in a cold sweat. The Wolverine raged, but only to defend. It lashed out, but only to protect.

In truth, it had become the guardian that had assured Logan's safe passage from the very depths of hell, for without it he would never have escaped the lab, never fought back his freedom. Yet it was only since the events at Alkali Lake, only since he had lain the past to rest, that Logan had finally accepted that the Wolverine was not an enemy to be fought but an ally to be embraced.

And with these words the Wolverine finally seemed to retreat; finally accept. Perhaps even understand in it's own way. Despite its ferociousness the beast inside sometimes seemed little more than an angry child who just couldn't quite comprehend right from wrong.

The growl of disgruntlement he got in return for such a sentiment produced a fleeting smile of amusement from Logan.

He rubbed the back of his wrist across his brow to wipe away the moisture left by the cold's bracing caress, and burying his hands deep into his pocket he continued to crunch through the snow, his breath becoming a thick white mist that quickly fused with the frozen air. He sniffed as the scent of pine intensified and realised, with a stirring of mixed emotion, that he wasn't far from his destination now.

When he thought about it, he noted that he wasn't far from the lab either. He stopped in his tracks to sweep his gaze around him at the harsh yet beautiful landscape that seemed to stretch on forever like a little earth-bound pocket of eternity. After a moment's contemplation he guessed that Alkali Lake would be around fifty miles to the east.

He felt no emotion now at being so close to that place, and it wasn't because it was beneath water now, destroyed forever. That chapter of his life was simply closed. Period. He did, however, feel a wash of pain surge up through him at the memory of Jean, sacrificing herself to save them that fateful day.

"Jeannie," he whispered sadly in the direction of the Lake. "Miss you." And he did genuinely miss the friend she had become, the doctor who had cared. He realised now that she had probably known all along that he and Marie had been destined to be together.

_~I think that she's a little taken by you~,_ she had teased, all those years ago, after their confrontation with Magneto at the Statue of Liberty, and although he had known it too, it had unsettled him, and he had turned his own confused affection back onto Jean.

Even that kiss outside the jet had just been an escape, a denial of the thoughts he had really been having about Marie.

He felt bad for using Jean in such a way but a part of him felt that she had also known that all along - and had understood. In reality, there wasn't a lot you _could_ actually hide from a telepath.

"Sorry, Red," he offered finally, hoping that his words would carry across the miles to her final resting place.

Composing himself he started walking again, entering a more dense area of forest where the earth rose steadily up into mountain and the snow began to thin out and concentrate itself into small pooled areas. He climbed for almost twenty minutes and by the time he reached his destination the ascent had warmed him considerably, his forehead and the back of his neck now sprinkled with tiny beads of perspiration.

He sniffed the air again and grinned. He could detect the heady smell of wood smoke, and, if he was not mistaken, the distinctive aroma of venison.

The cave entrance was small but clear of foliage and in front of it sat his friend in a cross-legged posture before a small fire. A modest portion of meat had been skewered onto a tree branch and the old man was in the process of cooking it. Logan hadn't seen him in three years but he looked no different. His grey wiry hair bound tightly into two braids that fell to his stomach, his weather-beaten skin dark and leathery, and his slight form literally mummified in layers of skins and fur.

"You set that up quick," Logan pointed out dryly. "You were an eagle a moment ago." He slipped off his rucksack and tossed it to one side before squatting down in front of the fire to warm his hands. "By the way - impressive show earlier."

"I was pleased to see an old friend, that's all."

"You were showing off, Twostep," Logan insisted with a smile. "As usual."

"Perhaps." Twostep regarded Logan curiously from dark, almost black, eyes. "Why have you come here today, Logan? I sense that this is not only a friendly visit."

"You cut straight to the chase, don't you?"

"I don't like to dilly dally."

Logan watched him steadily, filled with an affection that almost bordered on love for the old man before him. He was the nearest thing he had ever had to a father. The only thing he had ever known as a father, since he still had no recollection of the time before the lab. All he knew was that when Twostep had discovered him, naked and bloody and howling his primal scream, he had taken him into his care, coaxed him away from insanity, despite -

Logan could hardly bare focus upon the three prominent scars that disfigured one side of Twostep's face.

Despite almost killing him in the process.

"I've come to say goodbye," he said finally.

"No you haven't," the old man corrected quickly. "You have come to find out if you are doing the right thing by saying goodbye."

"And what do you think?"

Twostep's gaze intensified as it wandered searchingly over Logan. "The shadows have lifted from your face - I can see that you have finally let go of your past. That is good."

"And?"

"And I see a different sort of fire in your eyes." Twostep grinned, his teeth surprisingly white and even for a man of so many years. "Can it be that the Wolverine has been tamed by a woman at last?"

"Maybe."

"Still just as guarded with your words, I see."

"Talking is for philosophers," Logan returned with a grin. "Like you."

"I'm no philosopher. Just an old man who likes the sound of his own voice."

Logan was puzzled. He loved these wilds just as much as Twostep and yet his words didn't make sense. "Then why do you live out here like a hermit? There's no one to even talk to."

"Ah, you would be surprised, Logan. I talk to many things." He gestured warmly to the untamed landscape that surrounded them. "The wind, the earth, the trees and the animals."

"If you say so," Logan mocked light-heartedly.

The old man frowned but his own jesting lingered behind his severe expression. "So, let us return to the beginning - why have you come to say goodbye?"

Logan took a deep breath, watching Twostep fretfully. "Because I have to make a choice - Marie or here."

"Why?"

"If I set up a life with Marie, I have to settle. That's how it's done."

"Is that what this Marie wants?"

Feeling rather sheepish, Logan rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "She doesn't even know I want _her_," he revealed quietly.

Twostep remained silent as if prompting his friend to continue.

"The last time we were together," Logan finally added miserably. "She looked so young. So innocent. I dunno - pure?"

Understanding flared into the old man's eyes. "And the Wolverine is frightened of tainting such purity," he clarified.

Logan peered down at the earth unable to summon a response.

"And Marie? Does she return your feelings?"

_~Take me with you!~_ Marie's words echoed through Logan's mind. "Yeah."

Twostep shook his head in exasperation. "You people make things so complicated for yourselves. How do you know that Marie even wants to settle?" Twostep reached across the rather charred tree branch, offering Logan a piece of cooked meat.

Logan accepted the tasty looking morsel. "I dunno," he returned with a shrug as he popped the meat in his mouth. "I suppose it's hard to express your feelings sometimes." He found it difficult to swallow his food passed the lump that had lodged in his throat.

He glanced up to meet Twostep's beady eyes. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For what you did for me all those years ago."

"All I did was offer you clothes and nourishment."

"I could've killed you." Logan took a deep breath as he regarded the scars again. "I almost did kill you."

"Your actions were hardly surprising under the circumstances." Twostep shook his head dismissively. "Rid yourself of this guilt once and for all, Logan. They are only scars."

Logan nodded soberly.

Twostep glanced down at the fire, reaching for a small reed pipe that rested upon a heated rock. Picking it up he offered it to Logan.

"Here. Let the pipe guide your dreams. Let it give you the answers you seek."

Logan took the pipe and observed it warily. "The last time I took you up on _ that_ offer I almost threw myself off this mountain thinking I could fly.."

Twostep chuckled at the memory. "And what a sight to behold that was." But quickly calming again he gestured once more to the pipe. "Aren't you at all curious to know what your heart will reveal now that your demons have gone?"

Logan looked up from the pipe at Twostep. "Maybe." He frowned again, realising that curiosity had nothing to do with it - he was_ afraid_ of what might be revealed.

He stared into the fire, momentarily hypnotised by the rise and fall of the flames. They seemed to move so seductively, so mesmerisingly, that he could almost visualise Marie dancing within them, dancing just for him. Only him.

Taking one final look at Twostep he slipped the end of the pipe into his mouth and drew in the sweet vapours, sucking hard as he closed his eyes and surrendered to the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

**_An Inner Journey..._**

The pipe smoke had an almost immediate effect upon Logan's senses despite his healing ability desperately trying to counteract it. It was extremely potent stuff and Twostep had purposely tripled the dose for Logan's benefit when he had become aware of his return, knowing full well of his friend's mutation.

Logan was vaguely aware of positioning himself cross-legged - a mirror image of the old man sitting opposite him - and of his head bowing slightly as it suddenly became uncomfortably heavy, but then all he became conscious of was the thick heady darkness that overwhelmed him as the drug began to kick in...

It reminded him of Cerebro in a way - images sweeping out from the blackness to take centre stage at the front of his mind much like fleeting movie clips. He saw snatches of his nightmares - of the lab - of the masked men who had forsaken every shred of morality in the name of science - although they were hazier now, less aggressive, less terrible somehow, if that was at all possible -

He saw the breath-taking Canadian wilderness - a timeless landscape of forests and lakes and snow capped mountains that would never cease to be a part of him - and Twostep - the old man's wizened face grinning knowingly - always one step ahead - always able to see into his heart however hard he tried to conceal his emotions -

Logan's earlier memories swiftly passed to make way for the more recent - the never ending monotony of bleak grey highway - the tacky motels and dark seedy bars - the cage fighting - men's bones cracking beneath the weight of his fists - the submit to violence -

Yet laced through these dark times was a contrasting montage of soft warm skin and silken hair - eager mouths and eyes glazed with lust - and need - desperate need - the women he had tried and failed to seek solace in -

He felt anger overwhelm his senses, acknowledging that the bitches had just been using him, but his bitterness quickly diffused when he accepted that he had been using them just as much, if not more -

There was a change then - and Logan was no longer watching but became a part of the scenes unfolding in his mind -

He was back in that god-awful camper-van with Marie sitting beside him in that green hooded coat that had made her look so young - so innocent - like a character from a fairy tale -

"So? What kind of a name is Rogue?"

"I dunno. What kind of name is Wolverine?"

The drug enhanced her image - her voice - and it seemed so real that he could even smell her scent as it had been back then - a little bit scared, a little bit cocky - and as pure as the snow covered landscape they had driven through.

"My name's Logan."

"Marie."

But her image was wrenched back into his subconscious to make way for yet another barrage of memories - as he became the observer again -

Sabretooth, the X-Men, Magneto - faces that flashed through his subconscious so fast that he could barely comprehend them all - all proceeding that terrible moment on the top of the Statue of Liberty when he thought he had lost her - had held her lifeless body in his arms and felt the world fall apart around him -

And then, finally, the images calmed and he found himself on unfamiliar ground - no longer memories - no longer anything he recognised as recent events -

He was back at the institute, prowling the moonlit corridors restlessly until he finally hesitated outside Marie's room.

He lifted up a hand tentatively - nervously - and knocked.

The door opened slowly and Marie gasped when their eyes met.

"You came back?" she whispered, so softly he could barely make out her words.

"I came back for you."

She smiled and lifted a hand up to gently cup his face and he immediately reached up to clutch her hand, pressing it tighter against his skin, relishing her touch.

"I love you, Marie."

But yet again, the scene was swept away by a final bombardment of images, images that this time, made his throat go dry and his heart race - so erotic they were - Marie's naked body writhing beneath him - her moans of pleasure - crying out his name over and over - her beautiful face lost in the throes of ecstasy as he claimed her for the first time -

But not the last -

"Marie."

His voice echoed through his mind like a mantra - distinct and weighted with his own passion -

"Marie -"

To his frustration it was at that moment that the drug could no longer suppress his healing ability and ushered him back to alertness, returning him to the real world so quickly that he was momentarily disorientated. He opened his eyes somewhat groggily, eventually focusing on Twostep once more.

The old man grinned. "Damned mutation, eh? Kicked in at an interesting part, if the way you said that girl's name was anything to go by."

Logan clicked his neck in an attempt to ease the stiffness that had gathered there. "Yeah, right," he growled irritably.

"Did it give you the answers you seek?"

Logan was assailed once more by those highly erotic images and he felt his groin tighten. "Yeah, I'm going back." But he had also been overwhelmed by that simple vision at Marie's door - the feel of her hand against his face - the happiness in her eyes - that beautiful smile - _that_ was what he was going back for.

"But I think I kinda knew the answers anyway," he confessed sheepishly.

"But sometimes even the mighty Wolverine needs a little persuading, eh?"

Logan frowned. "I'm not the Wolverine."

"You have always been the Wolverine, Logan. He is not just a part of you - he _is_ you."

Logan shrugged dismissively.

"So this is goodbye?" Twostep said gently and Logan was glad that he didn't pursue the matter. Perhaps that would be one thing he would never come to terms with - Logan and the Wolverine - one and the same? He was more comfortable with keeping him as a separate entity and doubted that would ever want to change that - it seemed safer somehow.

"Yeah, I guess so." Logan struggled to meet the old man's eyes.

"As much as I want to, I won't insist that you stay a while longer, because I can see in your eyes your eagerness to return to her."

Logan nodded regretfully.

"It has been good knowing you, Logan."

"And you, Twostep."

"I'm glad you have found a peace within yourself at last -" Twostep faltered, before adding: "But do not see this as the end. We _will_ meet again, my friend."

Logan was doubtful but remained silent. As he stood up he found himself peering down at Twostep with a raised eyebrow. "You're not actually a mutant, are you?"

Twostep grinned up at him. "I never said I was."

Logan was tempted to ask him just who - or _what_ - he really was but thought better of it. If Twostep had wanted to tell him he would have done so by now.

Logan hesitated a moment, his back to Twostep, realising that he was smiling. Not a strained smile, not a feigned smile, but a genuine open smile. It felt strange and unnatural, even going as far as making his mouth tingle slightly. He sighed gently beneath his breath.

He felt that the final weight had lifted from his shoulders. There would be no more doubts, no more deliberating right from wrong. He was tired of succumbing to the devil on his shoulder. He was going back for Marie - it was as simple as that. _His_ Marie. Not an angel. Not purity incarnate. Just a girl - a woman now - who touched him in a way that no other had and understood him more than he did himself.

He had never felt love like this. In truth, he had never felt love that wasn't blinded by lust. But he loved Marie. More than life itself. And he knew then, that he would fight a thousand Sabretooths, die a thousand deaths, to keep her from harm.

As he hiked down the mountain his attention was wrenched by an eagle's scream and glancing up he watched as his friend bid him a final farewell.

_Show off,_ he thought again but this time his smile twitched with sadness - he would miss his mysterious old friend.

Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a cigar and slipped it between his lips. Chewing down upon it contemplatively he pulled up the collar of his jacket and geared himself up for the long trek back home.

Back to Marie.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Only In Dreams..._**

Marie awoke with a start, the couple in the motel room next door having decided to begin their day with a heated argument and waking her in the process. She rolled her eyes angrily, tempted to throw something at the thin wall in protest, annoyed to have been woken from a most beautiful dream.

Running her fingers through her sleep tousled hair, she sighed longingly, dropping her head back down onto the pillow.

That was an understatement. _The_ most beautiful dream.

A dream about Logan.

She frowned despairingly. But then, did she dream about anything else these days? Whether day or night, he was there. Not only in her head as a separate entity, like David or Erik, but unbeknown to him, haunting her relentlessly in her own subconscious mind; things constantly reminding her of him in some shape or form whether it was an empty beer can on the street, the distinct roar of a motorbike, or a man wearing a leather jacket similar to his.

She chewed down upon her lip, only just able to hold back the tears, realising that she was being literally torn two ways.

Sometimes, when she was hurting particularly bad, fearing that her heart was actually breaking, she came so close to asking the Professor to just tear out every memory of Logan, leaving no trace of him whatsoever to cause her further pain.

And yet, she couldn't imagine living without his presence now - both her own wistful imaginings and the Logan she had absorbed on the top of the Statue of Liberty and during that accident in his bedroom. He kept her strong. Kept her hoping. Dreaming...

Ah, that dream -

It had begun so romantic, a scene that she had daydreamed so many times over the past year that she knew it down to the minutest detail - every gesture, every sound, every emotion, as if it had really happened - Logan knocking on her door late at night, having returned, _finally_ returned, from where ever it was he felt he had to run to.

She had gasped as she had met his eyes unable to believe that he was at last standing before her. She may have had the dream repeatedly, but the surprise, the joy she felt, was always genuine, always made her heart leap to her throat.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, appreciating the fact that her neighbours had finally had the decency to shut up.

Then he had said those words that she _so_ yearned to hear.

"I came back for you."

With a tentative hand she had found herself reaching up to cradle his face, relishing the warmth of his skin, the softness of his beard, simply the feel of him beneath her fingers. As they had watched each other intently, eyes locked, he had brought his own hand up to clutch at hers desperately, as if fearing she might suddenly deprive him of her touch.

"I love you, Marie."

When he told her he loved her she had been filled with so much happiness that tears of joy had pricked at her eyes, and her life had suddenly seemed complete, her Yin finally obtaining its Yang.

And then?

Marie chewed down harder upon her lip, suddenly overcome with desire as she remembered what had happened next - when the dream had taken on a more erotic theme - Logan's naked body caging hers, his hard muscular chest crushing down upon her heaving breasts; the fervour of their passion as they had made love for the very first time.

It had been so incredibly vivid. She had even been able to smell him - that intoxicating combination of musk, cigar and raw masculinity. And his touch - she could almost still feel it - her body tingling from the memory of his exploring hands.

Tipping back her head, she ran her fingers slowly - seductively - down the length of her neck towards her chest as if trying to recapture the moment, feeling a shiver of anticipation coarse through her as she ran a hand across her breast.

"Oh Logan," she whispered huskily, although her words were weighted with sadness. "Will I only ever see you in dreams now?" Laced with her sorrow were frustration and yearning and an edge of bitterness -

The fact that the untouchable girl could now touch, yet in a cruel twist of irony, the only man she wanted to touch her was never likely to return her feelings.

She had said it before, and she'd say it again, life was a fucking bitch.

The couple next door chose that moment to resume their argument again and glaring daggers at the wall Marie felt the anger swell within her. It was becoming so hard to restrain the rage of the Rogue now. Who wanted nothing more than to take out her frustrations on the whole world, something that the Erik in her head was drawn to like a moth to a flame, encouraging her to embrace her anger, harness it.

But she didn't want to be the Rogue anymore. She didn't want to feel all this hate. She just wanted to be Marie again - 24/7.

The problem was, the Rogue was as much a part of her as Wolverine was to Logan. One and the same. They could never tame their alter egos; only keep them restrained.

She wrenched the thin quilt from her body and stormed out of bed.

All she could think of was getting to Canada. The sooner the better. Just visualising the mile upon mile of snowy wilderness was enough to calm her. Calm the Rogue. And it wasn't just the Logan in her head that yearned for the place. She had always felt some connection even though she had never been there. As if the wilds were constantly calling out to her. Wanting her to return home.

Home?

She felt a strange feeling wash over her, something she couldn't explain exactly, but had felt twice before - once when she had been on the road just before she met Logan, and once at Alkali Lake. An anticipation, even an excitement, the closer she got to Canada. And she couldn't deny that unmistakable pull either - that beckoning charge, static in the air around her, almost taking form, like a disembodied hand slipping into hers and urging her closer.

Sometimes, the pull was so great that she wondered if she hadn't, in fact, lived in Canada in a past life.

The thought made her smile a sad little smile as she made for the bathroom.

Half an hour later she had vacated her room and was eating breakfast in a small diner opposite the motel.

At least trying to eat breakfast. She realised that she didn't have much of an appetite. Hadn't had much of one for the past few days, actually.

She had left the institute a week ago, ignoring the protests of her friends, who thought she was crazy to go off on her own again, especially when the Professor was offering her a final sense of stability in her life. She didn't even try to explain that it was this stability that was somehow driving her away. That she was being stifled by routine and expectation -

And everyone's grating sympathy.

Yes. There were those of them convinced she was going in search of Logan, believing she was chasing an impossible dream. Scott fell into this category more than anyone else and she had hated finally confessing to him that she could never return his feelings. And then there was Bobby, who had accepted, a long time ago, that they would never be a couple, but just hated seeing her hurting so much. He was a good friend. Scott was a good friend too. She would miss them something rotten but she also knew that she couldn't let them hold her back any longer.

Only Storm and the Professor seemed to understand, and Charles, being his usual caring self, had given her permanent loan of one of the jeeps and an emergency credit card. Her pride hadn't wanted to accept either but had finally acknowledged that she wouldn't get far on her meagre savings. Besides, a part of her had been deeply touched by the Professor's kindness and felt that he might be offended if she refused.

He had also insisted she take the keys to his summer retreat in the Rockies, imploring her not to make any rash decisions straight away but just take some time out for the time being, think things over, and if she eventually decided that she wanted to stay away for good then she could find herself a job and her own place to live. Start her life anew, but in the knowledge that the X-Men would always be there for her, should she ever need them.

She toyed with her food miserably.

Should she ever need them? Of _course_ she needed them. She would always _need_ them. She already missed Jubilee's wackiness and Kitty's giggles; the Professor's soothing voice and Storm's wisdom; Hank's warmth and Gambit's charm, and a million other little things that made the X-Men her family as well as her comrades in arms.

But, she needed something else more. What it was exactly, she had yet to determine. Logan? Well, that was pretty much a given, but also a desperate need to _find herself_. To decipher the conflicts in her heart and act upon them before it was too late.

She knew that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't.


	7. Chapter 7

**_A Ghost From The Past..._**

The weather was horrendous by the time Marie left the diner and returned to her jeep in the motel car park. The vehicle was rapidly becoming buried, the snow falling heavily now, the biting wind whipping it mercilessly before finally allowing it to settle.

She groaned as she struggled to wrench the door open and literally flung herself into the driver's seat, depositing her already snow-sodden overnight bag beside her in the passenger seat.

Some _finding herself_ experience this was turning out to be, she despaired, as she turned the key in the ignition only to find that the damn thing wouldn't start, and she prayed that the battery hadn't frozen or something untoward like that. She had a basic knowledge of cars and had armed herself with literally every concoction of anti-freeze known to man; using it everywhere that she felt extra attention would be needed.

"Start, damn you!" she growled at the dashboard, her voice gruff and dangerous and reminding her very much of Logan.

~Please start~, she begged in the silence of her mind. She just didn't think she could handle a broken down jeep. Not right now. Not with all the crap going on in her head.

A few splutters and wheezes later and the vehicle finally obliged her and switching on the heater to the max she dropped her head down onto the steering wheel, sighing her relief. She remained in this position for several minutes, eyes closed, as the engine ran idle and the jeep slowly began to warm up.

She was suddenly overwhelmed by the most intense loneliness and for a moment found it almost impossible to swallow the lump that had lodged in her throat.

She was hundreds of miles from everyone she cared about and yet knew that she couldn't go back. She wouldn't allow herself to go back. She refused to give in to her fears, to let herself down. Whatever she was doing was somehow important; she could feel it with every fibre of her being. She just had to gather all of her courage and fight all those doubts that had held her back for far too long.

She didn't want to rely on Rogue's strength any longer. It had to be all hers. Marie's. Bringing her back was the main reason she had started this journey in the first place.

Slipping on her seatbelt she pulled out of her parking space and out onto the bleak weather-ravaged motorway. She could barely see the road through the snow that angrily pelted the windscreen and she had no choice but to turn the wipers up to the max. The weatherman had promised that the blizzard would ease off by lunchtime, and that the day would brighten, yet she saw no sign of it in the bleak monotonic landscape around her.

She sighed again. And right now she needed a ray of sunshine.

Desperately.

* * *

Logan was oblivious to the weather as he sped back to New York - he had driven through worst. The new camper van he had purchased when he had first left the Institute was also a little bit of an improvement on the last one and could tolerate most of what the elements decided to throw at it. Besides, nothing could dampen his spirits today. Not when he had finally kicked his ass into gear and made the decision to return to Marie. Declare his love for her.

He rolled his eyes, bemused, as he chewed down upon his cigar. The badass Wolverine declare his undying love? One Eye was going to have a field day with this one.

Surprisingly, he didn't care. He felt too good to care. Dare he admit it - happy? He hadn't felt this way in a long - he stopped, hesitated, corrected himself - ever, hadn't felt this good - ever - at least in this lifetime. He had no idea what his life had been like before the lab. He had only Stryker's word to go on and he was determined not to walk down that path anymore. His only niggling doubts were that Marie might reject him (under the circumstances he would hardly blame her) but he was prepared to take the time to convince her otherwise. Do what ever it took to show her just how much she meant to him.

The simple fact was she was _his_ Marie. She always had been. From the moment he had seen her in Laughlin City when she had been a mere slip of a girl and he had been an angry man with one massive chip on his shoulder. He had just been too blinded by Jean-lust, his quest to unravel his mysterious past, and his own inner demons, to realise it.

He found himself switching the radio on, something he rarely did, shocking himself even further by tapping the steering wheel in time with the song. He didn't even know who the singer was - just knew that he liked her voice - until the song ended and the presenter announced it was a fellow Canadian - Sarah McLachlan. He thought Marie might like her and toyed with the idea of buying her one of the singer's CD's as a _sorry I've been such an ass_ present on his way back to the Institute.

He smiled, which proved a challenge with a cigar wedged between his lips. Yeah, he liked that idea. He could just visualise the two of them spending lazy Sunday mornings in bed, listening to music wrapped up in one another's arms. He wasn't exactly enamoured of the idea of setting up life with Marie at the Institute - it wasn't the most private of places, what with the X-geeks constantly hovering around - but if that was what she wanted then he could continue to tolerate them and all their irritating good intentions.

He switched off the radio when a rather over zealous heavy metal band began to assault his ears. It reminded him of the crap Jubilee had played over and over back at the mansion. Thankfully, Marie had seemed to share his dislike of it, even to the point of hiding her friend's CD's on one occasion.

Although he realised it was unlikely, he wondered whether he'd ever be able to convince Marie to return to Canada with him? He knew that he had told Twostep that he wouldn't be back but a small part of him hoped he'd one day be proved wrong. That Marie might prove him wrong and also yearn for the mile upon mile of wilderness that claimed his heart. He would love his mysterious friend to meet Marie and had a feeling that the two would get along famously.

His newfound happiness slumped a fraction. But, she had her friends. Her life at the institute. More security than he could ever dream to offer. He understood that. And accepted that Marie probably wouldn't want to give it up - even for him.

Still, the thought of them living together in a cosy cabin, somewhere in the middle of nowhere, sure felt nice. Felt right. As if it was meant -

He was taken aback by a sudden barrage of images that bombarded his mind much like the drug induced ones had during his visit with Twostep -

he saw the exterior of a cabin flash by - surrounded by deep snow and dense forest - then himself - his arms wrapped protectively around a woman as they stood on the porch laughing together -

Was it a memory? He didn't recognise it.

More images - a close up of his face - he looked kinda different - his hair was slightly longer - his clothes a little strange - was he wearing furs? - then the woman's face zoomed into focus - her smile so beautiful -

Holy shit!

He gripped at the steering wheel, conscious of the fact that he was no longer concentrating on the road; that he could no longer focus on anything but the images that were overwhelming his mind -

That face - was it her - was it really Marie?

He frowned. No, it couldn't be. Those trademark white locks of hers were nowhere in sight. And this woman was older - in her thirties at least.

He felt an odd stirring deep within his gut. It was neither painful nor pleasurable, just plain weird. Yet it spoke volumes.

Stunned, it proved an effort to return once more to his surroundings. Swerving into the nearest rest stop he quickly killed the engine and in one swift movement wound down the window a fraction and discarded the stump of his cigar, winding the window back up before the snow could invade the inside of the camper van.

Heart pounding in his ears he ran shaking fingers through his hair as he hunched forward, oblivious to time and place.

What did this mean? There was no doubt in his mind that he had just re-lived one of those infamous suppressed memories of his. _He_ knew it. The Wolverine knew it. It was one of those instinctive things that you just couldn't ignore.

Yet - yet if it was a memory - how the fuck could Marie be in it? There could be no denying that it _was_ her face.

It should've felt amazing - finally - a breakthrough. The first link to his past. He had prayed for this moment. Fantasised it a million times over the past fifteen years. Instead, he only felt disillusioned. Confused. And moreover - concerned. His newfound happiness came crashing down around him as he tried desperately to make sense of it all.

Filled with turmoil, he peered through the windscreen, the wind swept snow mirroring the maelstrom behind his eyes, and realised he had another dilemma.

There were only two people who could help him with this shocking revelation; the problem was they couldn't be further apart. He could either return back to Canada and seek Twostep's council again, or continue his journey to New York and ask Charles for advice, beg him if necessary, to read his mind..

Finally making his decision he composed himself as best he could, turned the key in the ignition and pulled back out onto the road.


	8. Chapter 8

**_A Ray of Sunshine..._**

The jeep soon warmed up and much to her surprise, so did Marie's spirits. It was a startling contrast from how she had felt at breakfast and inspired by this much-needed shift in mood she put the radio on. Music always seemed able to sooth her, comfort her, unless, she decided with a despairing roll of her eyes, it was that god-awful heavy metal music that Jube's seemed intent upon listening to every spare minute of the day.

Thankfully, the music was far from boisterous, and Marie was moved by the singer's voice almost immediately, despite the song clearly being half way through. She found herself tapping the steering wheel in time with the beat and was sorry when the track ended, taking careful note of who the singer was.

Hm...Sarah McLachlan, she pondered, vaguely recalling the name - hadn't Storm mentioned the singer once? It sounded like the kind of music Ororo would listen to. And she thought she might invest in one of her CD's when she reached the next town. When the radio presenter announced that Sarah was Canadian, Marie was all the more determined to add her to her CD collection.. She sighed wistfully. Wondering for the millionth time it seemed, just what it was about Canada that made her heart ache so fiercely? It was crazy! And yet she couldn't help but smile longingly, knowing that she didn't have far to go now, not far at all, before she'd be surrounded by the breathtaking pure-white wilderness and inhaling the heady scent of pine.

To further lighten her mood the weatherman's prediction finally began to carry some weight, the wind dropping considerably and the snow becoming lighter and less aggressive. Marie sighed. About time! Peering up through the top of the windscreen she searched hopefully for a break in the heavy white cloud - the weatherman had promised some sun after all - but that part of his forecast had yet to come true. Marie's shoulders sagged a little and she pouted, disappointed.

When the next song turned out to be just the sort of music that Jubilee would relish she quickly switched the radio off, screwing up her face in displeasure, although couldn't help but smile when an image of her friend, attempting to head-bang like a rocker, flashed into her mind. That girl was nuts. Marie's smile turned sad. That's why she loved her so much.

And missed her terribly.

Marie shook the melancholy away. Yeah, yeah, Marie, she mocked hopelessly. You've been down that path. Umpteen times. Don't go there. You're climbing up to a happy-high for the first time in - like forever -make the most of it. You can give the girl a call when you buy that CD.

Determined to stop wallowing in self-pity, she nodded adamantly for no one but herself.

Putting her foot gently down upon the accelerator, she increased the speed a fraction now that the weather was becoming more obliging, wanting to reach her destination as soon as possible. She predicted that another motel stop would be in order tonight but if she was up at daybreak, and the weather continued to improve, she should arrive at the Professor's cabin sometime tomorrow evening. She decided that she would have to send him a thank you gift once she got settled. And send everyone an _I heart Canada_ postcard. Perhaps being alone wouldn't seem so bad once she got used to it.

Her smile widened as the interior of the jeep suddenly seemed to brighten a notch. It was only subtle but there was, much to her delight, a definitely shift in the cloud. Her happy-high was made complete when, as if by magic, the snow-sodden clouds parted grudgingly and brilliant blue sky peeked through.

She peered up cheerfully. "And now some sun please?" she pushed humorously.. She even found herself joking - "come on, you can do it!"

And perhaps there was a God after all because at that moment a single shaft of sunlight beamed down from the heavens.

"My ray of sunshine!" Marie gushed giddily, feeling all childlike and silly.. But she felt good. This improvement in her mood - as well as the weather - had been a long time coming.

But her smile quickly wavered and died.

She blinked. Blinked again. The sun was suddenly a little too bright. The glare almost blinding. She tried to concentrate on the road ahead but the light reflected from the snow in a way that thwarted her vision. She frowned.

Keep going straight, it'll pass, she promised herself. But the windscreen was so lit up she was becoming scared. It was almost too surreal. Too artificial. She just couldn't see a damn thing.

And then she did something she promised herself she would never do. She panicked. Slamming her feet on the breaks before she could stop herself, oblivious to the fact that a vehicle might not be far behind her.

The breaks locked instantly and the jeep skidded, although the light was still so bright that she couldn't see where she was heading or what was before her. She heard an almighty bang and knew that she had made contact with another vehicle but was in such a panic she couldn't even tell whether it came from behind or in front of her. Then came a sickening scrape of metal that made her insides lurch, quickly followed by an ear-splitting high-pitched sound that she couldn't determine whether or not, was coming from outside or inside her head. For some reason it hurt. Hurt like hell.

And then the world seemed to turn upside down...and then very dark.

* * *

Logan made his decision and pulled out of the rest stop, continuing to head for the mansion, as he had originally intended. He wanted no delays in returning to Marie and if Chuck wasn't able to help him decipher the meanings behind these new and disturbing memories he could always borrow the Blackbird when no one was looking and return to Twostep. The fact that he couldn't fly the monstrosity wouldn't deter him - there was bound to be a manual somewhere, he thought dryly, half serious. And not even his aversion to flying would stop him - he could be very determined when he wanted to be. If all else failed, he'd kidnap Ororo and force her at claw-point to fly him.

He grinned. He was full of it today, his mouth practically aching from smirking. He was sure that Marie would soon wipe the smile from his face though, doubting that the little vixen would welcome him with open arms. Well, he'd just have to use the ole Logan-charm on her and bide his time.

It was sure gonna be worth it in the end.

His senses suddenly pricked up when he realised that some fool was standing in the middle of the road waving his arms around manically. What the fuck? Logan hit the breaks and skidded to a stop, angrily winding his window down. Frowning, he stuck his head out of the window.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, bub?" he growled heatedly. "You trying to get yourself killed?"

It was only when the man stumbled over to him that he realised he had a nasty gash on his forehead and was looking frighteningly pale. "Please...you've got to help us. There's been an accident. I've called for an ambulance but she needs medical attention _now_."

Logan was already half out of his vehicle. "Take me to her," he demanded gruffly, remembering what Jean and Scott had taught him - taught all the X-Men. Medical knowledge, however basic, was a must in their line of work.

The man ran his hands through his hair seeming half hysterical as he hurried alongside him. "I think she might be dead. She isn't moving. But I can't get her out. She's trapped." He was close to tears. "She just ploughed into me. I think it was the sun. It came so unexpected. I could hardly see anything myself. Then her jeep rolled. Ended up in a ditch."

Logan instantly went into X-Man mode - it didn't take a black leather uniform to switch his mind into gear. "Where is she?" The man pointed in the direction of some trees and Logan could see the crumpled vehicle lying upside down in a shallow ditch. He stopped for a second, gripping the man's shaking arm. "You think you're focused enough to move my van off the road? We don't want a pile up."

The man quickly nodded. "Yeah, sure. But don't you need my help?"

"I might do yet. Just hurry up and move my van."

The man was rushing off before he could finish his sentence and Logan headed in the opposite direction towards the ditch.

He hesitated when he took in the jeep. It looked familiar. Then he sniffed. Sniffed again. And panic roared up to engulf him.

Christ, no!

Marie?!

Her scent was potent despite the numbing cold, yet was still overpowered by the sickening reek of fresh blood.

His claws shot out instinctively as he raced over to the vehicle and he tore out the passenger door without hesitation, literally on autopilot, his heart lodged in his throat so that his words came out in little more than a deep gurgle.

"Oh my god. No. Please no. Marie? Marie? Can you hear me? Can you hear me, darlin'?"

His claws went to work again, efficiently slicing through the distorted metal that had jammed Marie into her seat and retracting his blades, he used all of his strength to heave it aside.

All he saw was red. Deep dark red. Her blood was everywhere. And in an insane moment he wondered how such a tiny person could have so much of the stuff.

Her face was white as a ghost, her lips beginning to turn blue. Yet despite his panic, his heightened senses could pick up a faint heartbeat. She was still alive. But only just.

"Wake up, baby! Wake up!" His despair became anger. "Don't you dare fucking die on me a third time!"

Tears were filling his eyes when he finally pulled her free, dragging her as carefully as he could out into the snow, but when he registered the gapping hole that was torn out of her side they spilled down his face. She was far beyond medical help now.

"No! No! This can't be happening! Marie! Oh god, please, kid! Wake up!"

She was dying. He knew it. He could feel it. The cloying scent of death filled the air around him. It made him feel sick.

He knew he had no choice.

_Knew that he would fight a thousand Sabretooths, die a thousand deaths, to keep her from harm._

He just prayed that her mutation wasn't switched off.

Moving his mouth to hers he kissed her, gently at first and then more purposely. He was sure he felt her lips twitch beneath his but he ignored it, only intent on concentrating, on keeping his skin pressed hard against hers, intensifying the contact by clutching her frighteningly cold face in his hands. The tears continue to fall as he held her, never believing that the first time he kissed her would be like this, and he wondered if he was being punished. Was that was this was all about? Had he been more of a monster in his life before the lab, than he realised?

Dear God. Don't let her die. Not now. Don't you fucking dare!

When the pull finally came he was so happy he was oblivious to the pain, embracing it - welcoming it - as if it were a long lost friend. He hadn't even considered that Marie might consume him completely this time. All he cared about was bringing her back. Making that awful gash in her side go away..

I love you, Marie. I'll always love you, darlin'.

If this was the end for him he could think of no better way to go than with his lips pressed against hers.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Reunited..._**

Marie paced the room anxiously, unable to concentrate on anything whilst Logan was still unconscious. He had been out for almost eight hours and although Hank had assured her that he would recover given adequate rest, she still couldn't help but worry. He looked so pale, so...fragile somehow...despite his size, and she was overwhelmed with guilt that she had reduced him to this state yet again.

She chewed down upon her lip, watching him intently as she stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped comfortingly around her.

Three times he had brought her back from the brink of death. Three times he had saved her life. They said things happened in threes so hopefully this would be the last need for heroics. She so hated the thought of him suffering. He had suffered enough, what with the lab and everything. He deserved some peace now.

Her eyes ran longingly over him and she sighed wistfully. Despite obviously being a little worst for the wear he still looked beautiful. Like a Greek God - all chest and muscle and big strong arms. She knew he'd hate being described as beautiful - probably say it sounded pansy, a name more fit for Scott - but she couldn't help but feel the label fitted him perfectly whilst he was sleeping so soundly like this, and wasn't frowning or scowling or trying to retain some bad-ass façade.

She smiled warmly, lovingly. And that was all it was - a façade - because she had seen him on the inside three times now and knew that he was really a good, gentle man beneath the gruff exterior; that he always had been. He was just frightened of expressing that warmer side of his persona; didn't know how to if the truth was known. Such sentiments were virtually alien to him. He had spent so long being angry at the world that it was hard for him to let go of the bitterness and pain that had kept him strong these past fifteen years.

He suddenly stirred and her heart leapt. But to her disappointment he didn't wake up. She walked wearily over to him, her bare feet virtually soundless as they padded across the wood floor of the cabin bedroom, and sat in the chair she had placed beside the bed. She continued to gaze at him, her hands fidgeting fretfully in her lap, tired and hungry but unable to leave his side. It was turning dark, shadows deepening and lengthening in the small room, but she couldn't bring herself to switch the light on. She was too mesmerised by the branches that were being cast through the window, sweeping his sleeping form. Teased gently by the wind they swayed back and forth across his body almost like a caress, as if the trees were welcoming him back home. Captivated, she reached across to allow the shadows to play across her hand, so that she could also be a part of the caress - Logan, her and the wilderness - as one - as fate intended.

Fate? she considered hopefully, and she felt a stirring of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Had all this pain and suffering been necessary in order to steer the fates of two people destined to be together no matter what?

She had absorbed everything when he had touched her and saved her life. Absolutely everything. How he felt about her. How he felt about Canada. The fact that he had finally let go of the turmoil that had raged within him for so long.

The Logan she had absorbed this time was so very different to the last two, almost as if he were a different person, she almost hadn't recognised him. He was no longer angry or vengeful or hell-bent on hunting down clues to his mysterious past ...he was simply...happy. She couldn't begin to describe how that made her feel, except that it made her want to cry, because it touched her in a way that nothing or nobody ever had.

Because she realised that _she _was the reason he felt this way. _She_ was what made him happy.

She felt tears of joy prick at her eyes. He had loved her all along.

But her moment of happiness gave way for concern when she was reminded of what else she had absorbed. And she was back to that word - fate -again.

She couldn't deny it, she had seen that memory of his. His first memory of the time before the lab. A memory that had _her_ in it...

Had it really been her?

The Logan in her head was as frightened by the implications of such a memory as she was. There were only three possible explanations - two good, and one that didn't bare thinking about.

It had either been a woman who simply looked remarkably like her, and could be the reason why Logan had been so drawn to her in the first place; It could be her in a former incarnation - a life before this one, that she had shared with Logan, and certainly gave weight to her yearning for Canada and the intense attraction between them...

Or...

She took a deep breath.

Or...that she and Logan were somehow related. That the woman in his memory had been a distant relative - great grandmother, perhaps - hence the startling similarity. The problem was, she had no idea when the memory dated from. And neither did the Logan in her head.

But please god - whatever the date - don't let it be that one, she prayed. Because if it were true, she could never love him in the way she wanted to - physically as well as emotional.

Marie pushed the idea to the back of her mind, unable to face it, and instead, reached across to gently take hold of Logan's hand, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin against hers. Her loosely curled fist looked tiny against his and it made her feel somehow protected, and safe. _He_ made her feel safe, and not just because he had adamantium claws and the kind of persona that had the average man quaking in his boots. He made her feel safe because he loved her. It was as simple as that.

He had let her into his ravaged heart and it was now her job to help him rebuild it, help him start living again. She smiled gently. She could think of no occupation she'd like more.

When his fingers closed over hers she gasped, snapping her gaze to his face..

"Logan?"

He slowly opened his eyes. "Marie?"

Marie couldn't stop the tears from falling. "Yeah, it's me," she sniffed.

His hazel eyes met hers. "Marie?" he whispered again, his voice sounding hoarse and painful, and he squeezed her hand tighter.

"I'm here," she soothed, trying to compose herself.

A small smile twitched at his mouth. "Yeah, you are." He reached up to gently caress her cheek with the back of his hand. "A sight for sore eyes."

His touch sent delicious sensations through her. "How do you feel?" She quickly reached across for a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here, drink some water."

"I feel great," he returned as he lifted himself up a fraction, accepting the glass gratefully.

As he sipped at the water he didn't look great, she could see what an effort it was for him to keep upright.

"Liar," she teased, although her eyes continued to watch him restlessly.

Calling him that, Marie was returned to that time in the kitchen at the mansion, just before he had left. So long ago it seemed now. And it was at that moment she finally understood that him leaving that night had been important. Necessary. And not just for Logan. That they _both_ had their inner demons to exorcise before they could truly find peace together.

"Hey," he frowned playfully, as she took the glass from him and returned it to the table. "That's no way to talk to a sick man." He tried but failed to hide a grimace as he dropped his head back upon the pillow.

Her eyes glistened and she sniffed again. "God, I'm so sorry, Logan. I hate hurting you like this."

"Hey," he brushed away a tear that had begun to trace a path down her cheek.. "Don't cry, darlin'. Please don't cry."

His words only intensified her emotions and she let out a little sob. "I can't help it. If I'm not hurting you I'm losing you -"

He pulled her into his chest, running comforting fingers through her hair. "Never again. I'll never leave you again, baby."

Between sobs she managed to blurt out a single word. "Promise?"

She could sense rather than see his smile and she knew that she wasn't the only one remembering a tender moment shared on a train. "Yeah. I promise."

She wanted to remain in his arms like this forever but she finally eased herself away, knowing that he would still be weak, would need his rest.

He observed the darkened room in confusion as she returned to the chair. "Where am I? Back at the mansion? It doesn't smell like the medical room."

Marie wiped away the dampness from her face, smiling excitedly. "What _does_ it smell like, Logan?"

"Besides you?" he grinned but he quickly turned serious, his eyes glazing over with something that very much resembled desire. "God, you smell good, kid."

Marie felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine as they stared at one another intensely and it was only with a tremendous effort of will that she managed: "What else? What else can you smell?"

He frowned quizzically as his gaze roamed the room again and he sniffed a couple of times. His eyes snapped back onto hers again, filling with pleasant shock. "Pine." His face suddenly brightened and a hint of colour began to creep into his features. "Canada," he stated firmly.

"The Rockies," Marie confirmed happily. "Charles' summer retreat."

"But how? When?"

"It's a long story."

He reached across to claim her hand again and pulled her towards him. "I'm not going anywhere." He moved away from her slightly to make a space on the bed and gestured for her to join him. She did so with a shy smile, lying on her side beside him on top of the bed covers, her heart racing at the same time it was soaring.

She explained to him how she had woken up to find him slumped unconscious on top of her and that if the guy at the scene of the accident hadn't helped her move him, she would probably have absorbed him completely. Killed him..

Logan stroked her arm reassuringly when she tensed at the thought and she smiled at him appreciatively. Resisting the impulse to reach across and kiss him, something she could see hinting in his eyes as well, she continued to explain how the guy had been pretty confused to find that the roles of accident victim and rescuer had been reversed but she had persuaded him to lend her his mobile phone so that she could call the Professor.

Ironically, the Blackbird reached the scene before the ambulance and Hank had tended to Logan and the now somewhat dazed guy, whilst Charles discreetly probed his mind, making him believe that he had been the only accident victim. The jeep had been concealed a safe distance away from the scene to be collected at a later date. They didn't know what the ambulance, police and insurance crews would make of it all, it was inevitable that many things would not add up, but by then the Blackbird would be long gone.

"The Professor wanted to have you brought back to the mansion but I was set on coming here. I hope you don't mind."

"I wouldn't have wanted it any other way."

"Hank, the Professor, Scott and Ororo stayed for quite a while monitoring your progress, and only left when they were sure you were out of danger." Marie eased herself up onto her elbows. "Actually, I promised the Professor I'd call him as soon as you were awake. Perhaps I should do that now."

Logan pulled her back down beside him again, draping his arm possessively around her middle. "Let him wait."

Marie grinned sleepily, her eyes growing extremely heavy. She had forced herself to stay awake whilst Logan was unconscious, wanting to be there when he woke, but now he was obviously well on the road to recovery she found herself relaxing a little.

Logan must've sensed her shift in mood. "Get some sleep, darlin'. You look as if you need it."

"But -" she started to protest. She really felt she should keep awake a little bit longer, just in case.

Logan gently pressed a finger to her lips. "No, buts. Sleep."

The way he said the word _sleep_ was almost hypnotic, almost as hypnotic as his beautiful hazel eyes. Marie didn't want to stop gazing into them but was unable to hold back her exhaustion any longer.

"I love you, Logan," she whispered as her eyes slowly closed.

"I love you too, Marie," were the last words she heard before the warm velvet darkness claimed her.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Home..._**

Logan watched Marie as she slept, unable to believe that she was finally in his arms; that they were finally together. He had fantasised this reunion countless times over the past year but the reality of it was so intense it made his chest constrict uncomfortably. It was an odd pleasure-pain he had never experienced before but couldn't help but warm to because he now associated it with the beautiful creature by his side.

And god, if she wasn't beautiful - his gaze wandered longingly over her face, the moonlight that now flooded the room giving her almost an ethereal quality that made his breath catch in his throat - the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. He had thought so the moment he had first seen her in Laughlin City, when she had been that young girl with the frightened eyes and that heart-wrenching air of misery surrounding her.

He reached across to lightly caress her silken hair, running a finger nostalgically down one of those trademark locks of white, acknowledging with a spark of anticipation, that she wasn't a girl anymore. She was a woman. His stare turned possessive.

_His_ woman.

His mate.

The Wolverine, whether a part of him as Twostep insisted, or a bizarre separate entity inhabiting his body, had found his mate at last, literally purring his pleasure deep within him - if a low appreciative growl could be classed as a purr. But for once the Wolverine seemed to be in agreement with him.

Marie stirred in her sleep and Logan quickly pulled his hand away not wanting to wake her - he liked to watch her sleep - and a smile tugged at his lips when she murmured something incomprehensible beneath her breath before settling again. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Them, perhaps? Their future together?

His face darkened with concern and he frowned. Or was it possible for them to have a future together - at least in the way they both wanted - now that this _memory_ had surfaced to haunt them. What did it mean? And did he even _want_ to know?

He carefully edged off the bed and closing the bedroom door quietly behind him went in search of the bathroom, wandering out into a spacious living area. Switching on the light, the shadows were gutted to reveal a generous open fire and expensive looking décor - very Charles Xavier - he thought dryly. It seemed that the Professor spared no expense, even with a summer retreat he rarely used, and it wasn't the first time that Logan found himself wondering where all the money came from. He grinned as he recalled Jubilee's theory that involved Chuck's telepathic powers and lots of secret high-stake poker games.

He eventually found the bathroom and after emptying his bladder took a long hot shower. He still didn't feel one hundred percent recovered but his healing factor was strengthening by the minute - he could feel the energy coursing once more throughout his veins as it dealt with the last of his inner injures.

Viciously attacking his wet hair with a plump white towel he padded back through into the bedroom with a second towel wrapped around his waist, searching for his clothes. He finally discovered them draped neatly over a chair - they had been washed and ironed - and he dressed quickly and silently, eyes anxiously fixed on Marie as she continued to sleep soundly, determined not to disturb her.

Slipping on his leather jacket he located the cabin's exit and stepped outside onto a wide moonlit veranda, the night air bracing but exhilarating as it swept around him in greeting.

He took a deep breath although the sudden drop in temperature made it come out shallow and jagged and he realised that going outside with damp hair may not have been the wisest of decisions. But he just needed to see for himself that he was actually here. Back in Canada. He had to test the air - acknowledge its pure crisp scent - before he could allow himself to accept it.

A small smile played across his lips as he turned up the collar of his jacket. Yeah, he confirmed with an intense stirring of emotions, he'd recognise that scent anywhere - in the dark, in the light, blindfolded even. The smile tugged wider. He was home.

But what made it even better was that Marie was here with him this time.

They were both home.

And not even that elusive memory of his could dampen his spirits at that moment.

He brushed away the snow that layered the balcony and leaned onto the wood thoughtfully. As he stared up into the starry night, he realised that Twostep had been right, he_ would_ see him again, and much sooner than he would ever have anticipated. He didn't know why, but he suddenly had a feeling that his mysterious friend might be able to shed some light on what the memory might mean. He sighed gently beneath his breath. He didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't.

"Logan! You'll freeze to death out here!"

Logan turned to see Marie hovering sleepily in the doorway and he grinned. "Healing factor, remember?"

"A healing factor that has _only_ just recovered," she scolded, gesturing for him to return indoors. "Seriously, Logan - you've got wet hair for Christ's sake! Please come in."

"Together for only five minutes and you're already bossing me around," he frowned teasingly. "Can't have that."

As he walked towards her she folded her arms across her chest defiantly. "Oh, we can't?"

He stopped in front of her, folding his own arms to mirror her stance and lent towards her. "Nope."

"Threatening me now?" she threw back, not in the least bit intimidated by him as he towered over her and he couldn't help but admire her boldness of spirit - few people dared challenge the Wolverine. But he could also see the expectation flare into her eyes and he acknowledged that there was still so much innocence there, so much fragility and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly protective of the young woman before him.

"You bet-cha," he warned, although his lips were upon hers before she could answer and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him.. She responded eagerly, whimpering softly as he gently teased her plump lips with his teeth before brushing his mouth across hers tenderly. She followed his lead impatiently, gasping in anticipation when he slipped his tongue into her mouth seeking out hers and he found himself groaning in return, her taste so sweet and chaste that he knew he would soon become addicted. He grew hard just thinking about the intimate pleasures that were undoubtedly before them.

But he suddenly felt her small hands press into his chest urging him away and he reluctantly severed their kiss. He already knew what she was going to say.

"Logan," she whispered sadly.

"I know," he returned gently, his voice weighted by frustration.

"I want to get close to you, Logan, more than anything in the world, but I can't do so until I know." She watched him hopefully from eyes that glistened with tears. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah. I've been thinking the same thing myself. I'm sorry I kissed you - I just - just couldn't help myself." He reached across to caress her cheek. "I've wanted this for so long."

She reached up to clasp his hand. "Me too." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "What are we going to do, Logan?"

"Pay a wise old man a visit."

She frowned curiously. "The Professor?"

"Nope. Older."

"Who?" But then he guessed that she must have had a flash of memory -one of his memories - because she added: "Twostep?"

"Yeah. I guess you know all about him now."

"I know that you love him like a father." She smiled warmly. "So it will be nice to meet your family."

He reached down to quickly kiss her again, pulling away before she could protest. "I'm sure he'll be as enamoured by you as I am."

Marie grinned. "Enamoured? That's a romantic word for the Wolverine."

"You ain't heard nothing yet, darlin'"

She laughed quietly and he relished the sweet-as-honey sound. "Logan, have you taken a look in the mirror recently - your hair is even crazier than usual."

"Nah," he joked. "Might crack it." He ran a hand through his damp hair in an attempt to calm the unruly spikes.

She rolled her eyes. "As if!" But at the same time he saw her shiver and realised that they were still standing out in the cold. "C'mon, baby. Let's get a fire going. Might as well take advantage of Chuck's hospitality."

Unable to resist taking her hand in his - he didn't think he'd be able to stop touching her now - he led her back into the cabin.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Hope..._**

Lips still tingling from the weight of his kiss, Marie allowed Logan to lead her back into the cabin, his warm hand feeling so right in hers, and she had to take a subtle deep breath just to bring herself down from her latest Logan-high.

She felt as if she were in a beautiful dream. She had longed for this man for so long and now...now he really was hers. He really did love her. And it felt so god-damn good she was literally walking on air. She wouldn't dare even pinch herself to check if she was actually dreaming for fear of waking up. She felt she could happily stay asleep forever if this were going to be the eternal dream.

"Does Chuck have any food stocked in this place?" he asked when they finally unlinked hands.

She grinned at him as he turned to face her. "I can see that the mighty Wolverine has recovered," she teased happily.

He returned the smile. "Darlin'," he announced dryly. "I'm so hungry I could eat a fucking bear, right now."

"Well, I don't think the Professor has any bear joints hidden away in the freezer but I'm sure I can rustle us up something."

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Wanna hand? These things can slice an' dice as good as any knife." As if to prove the point his claws shot out of his left hand making her jump.

She couldn't tell whether he was joking or not - she wasn't so familiar with the humorous side of the Wolverine - although she couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of him using those lethal adamantium blades to chop vegetables.

Beneath her amusement, however, she found herself shivering at the sight of those claws, such cold hard metal so very contradicting against warm living skin; such opposites, so unnatural, but somehow so...so much a part of Logan now. But her reaction wasn't at all through fear -more - dare she admit it - anticipation? She had never feared the Wolverine but there was a perverse part of her that almost wanted to at times. The idea shocked her.

"No, that's OK, sugar," she managed shakily, as he retracted them again. "You just get the fire going."

He watched her strangely and she was concerned that he had sensed her shift in emotion, but, much to her relief he didn't question her on it, instead his grin widened as he watched her in amusement. "Did you just call me sugar?"

She felt herself blush realising that although she had always fantasised calling him sugar, she never had in reality, until now. "I guess I did."

Logan stealthily moved across to her, slipping his hands through her hair to tenderly clasp the back of her neck. "I liked it."

Looking up at him, Marie's legs suddenly took on the consistency of jelly and she had to take another deep breath. "I liked calling you it."

Their eyes locked and Logan swept his hands around to cup her face urgently.. "Fuck, Marie," he whispered huskily, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down her spine. "I want you so bad."

"I want you too, Logan," she returned softly, feeling the butterflies dance frenziedly in her stomach. "But I'm sure that Twostep will make things right." She felt a flare of hope spark within her. "Somehow."

Logan's eyes searched her face anxiously. "What if he can't?"

She felt her chest restrict painfully at the thought. "Don't even go there, Logan. Not now. Please. We're together at last. Let's just forget all about that memory...at least for tonight."

She saw him swallow uncomfortably and he nodded fleetingly. "Sure, baby." He moved his hands from her face and forced a strained smile. "I'll sort out the fire."

* * *

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

Body fed, watered and warmed by the soothing heat of the fire crackling opposite him, Logan lay contentedly upon one of Charles' wonderfully yielding sofas. Marie's tantalisingly curvaceous body pressed snugly into his, her hair close enough to inhale its sweet feminine scent, whilst her gentle breathing was lulling him into a blissful state that he never wanted to leave.

His arm were wrapped possessively around her narrow waist, their hands clasped in front of her chest, fingers interlocked as if they were always meant to be that way. He squeezed them gently to serve as a prompt when she didn't answer although he could sense her sudden apprehension.

"What is it, Marie?" he murmured into her hair. Her continued silence spoke volumes and he knew that she was gearing herself up. That this was going to be something significant. She eventually spoke.

"A long time ago, I asked you a question that you never answered. Would you answer it now?"

"Sure," he answered, although not without a degree of wariness.

"Did you ever love Jean?"

He relaxed again. "No."

He was surprised by how quickly he was able to answer her this time and wondered why he had been so cagey about it the first time when she had asked him. It was a simple enough question, after all. But he realised that it had more to do with the feelings he had been harbouring for Marie at the time, and really nothing to do with Jean. Feelings that he just couldn't face back then. Or accept.

She moved around to face him. "Really?" She frowned, concerned. "You don't have to say that just to make me feel better."

"I'm not," he insisted.

"So, it was more about lust then?" she dared, and he could feel her relief wash over him in waves.

"Yeah, kinda."

"Do you miss her?"

"As much as I would any good friend."

She chewed down upon her lip. "I do too. She didn't deserve to die."

"She made a choice."

"For the greater good," Marie added wistfully. "For the people she loved."

Marie's words made him feel restless. "I'd die for you," he found himself admitting. "In a heartbeat." It was his turn to frown though because things had changed. "But at the same time I don't think I could leave you behind like Jean did Scott. Not now." It was an impossible situation he acknowledged grimly - the fact that he might one day lose her through saving her. He prayed that that day would never come.

Marie smiled gently, oblivious to his musings, reaching across to trace a tentative finger along the strong contours of his face, exploring him with such a child-like wonder that Logan was forced to suppress a groan, finding it hard to believe that such an innocent touch could stir him so strongly. But the desire in her eyes was anything but innocent and when her finger brushed over his lips he quickly reached for her hand and pressed it against his mouth, kissing the back of her palm softly.

"I don't think I could bear to lose you again either," she agreed as she gently eased her hand away, although her smile faltered and she looked thoughtful. "But perhaps I already have."

Logan knew straight away what she meant. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"I didn't, but -"

"But what?"

"I don't know why," she started. "But the longer I lay here with you, the more I fill with hope." She pressed her fisted hand to her chest. "Here." She watched him tenderly. "Not just a wishful hope but something that comes from deep within, like a gut feeling that everything_ is_ going to turn out all right." She suddenly looked sheepish. "Does that sound corny?"

"No, babe. Not at all. We've been through so much shit that I think we're owed this little piece of happiness."

She smiled warmly, her eyes glistening, and Logan didn't think he had ever seen her look more breathtaking.

Unable to stop himself he reached across to claim her mouth again, grateful that she didn't pull away, not even when he shifted his position so that he was laying over her, supporting his body weight on his arms. The kiss they shared was weighted with urgency and desperation and when they eventually parted, breathless yet frustratingly unsated, Marie gasped: "Take me to bed, Logan. Let me sleep with your arms wrapped around me. I need you tonight. I need you to make me feel safe. Nothing more than that."

Unable to deny Marie anything, Logan moved off the sofa and in one swift motion lifted her up into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. As he kicked the door shut behind him he knew that this was going to be one of the most difficult nights of his life.

And one of the most precious.


	12. Chapter 12

**_When Past and Present Collide..._**

"This feels familiar," Marie announced with a grin as they drove along the bleak snowy highway heading back to Twostep's. "Got any beef jerky kicking around in that glove compartment of yours?"

Logan flashed her a wry smile. He knew what she meant - it did feel familiar. It also felt nice. A nostalgic trip down memory lane. Yet reassuring at the same time, to know how different their lives were now - how much better. The young girl had grown up and the ageless man had mellowed. Even the camper van was an improvement on the last one.

He had been surprised to find One Eye knocking on Charles' cabin door first thing that morning and was even more surprised to learn that he had actually driven the camper van all the way from the scene of the accident. He had left for New York in a hire car almost immediately although not before taking a short walk with Marie to talk.

Logan didn't know what they had talked about and Marie had yet to tell him. He was burning to know though and couldn't help but feel a spark of jealousy at the obvious closeness between them, which hadn't seemed intimate enough to indicate that they had been lovers much to his relief, but had been close enough. He wasn't going to ask though. He had been away from the mansion a year and would have been a hypocrite to pry but a part of him hoped that Marie would spill the beans before his impatience got the better of him.

"It was good of One Eye to return the van," he pointed out, hoping it might serve as a prompt.

"Yeah," Marie agreed quietly.

"Especially in this weather," he observed. Inside he was practically tying himself up in knots. Come on, baby, he thought desperately. Don't make me have to ask.

"Hm."

He wondered whether she was doing this on purpose although her scent revealed only a slight anxiety, no doubt due to where this chain of questioning was heading.

"Did you have a nice talk?" he asked casually, at the same time giving himself a mental punch in the face - he really had no patience whatsoever, he despaired.

He sensed rather than saw her glance out of the window. "He just wanted to apologise," she finally revealed.

Logan found himself gripping the steering wheel tighter. "For what?" he growled.

At the sound of his tone she quickly looked back at him. "Oh, nothing like that." She hesitated before admitting: "We've got kinda close over the past year but in the end I just couldn't reciprocate his feelings." The look she gave Logan made his heart melt. "He wasn't you, Logan."

She shrugged. "But he was worried that he had been too pushy and wanted to clear the air between us. It wasn't necessary though - he's been such a good friend to me." She sighed quietly. "And it's been so hard for him since losing Jean."

The idea that Scott even dared make moves on Marie made Logan see red and he wished that he had never left the mansion. But he realised that he couldn't feel angry at One Eye for long. Marie was right. The last year must've been hell for him and Logan didn't think he could've got through it if Marie had been the one who had died.

He could see that she was uncomfortable discussing the situation though so he thought it best to change the subject now that his question had been more or less answered.

He gestured to the back of the van with his head. "Bit tidier these days."

Marie laughed. "I _had_ noticed. You trying to impress me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I need to?"

"No. I love you just the way you are."

He wasn't used to that word - love - used so freely and naturally between them now; he had known only lust and desire and seedy motel rooms reeking of the tackiness of casual sex.

Neither had he ever felt love towards a woman or ever had a woman tell him that she loved him. The truth was, he hadn't stayed with one woman long enough for such declarations to be made - by either party. But he loved Marie. And the fact that she loved him in return...it felt so fucking good.

"Say that again."

She regarded him strangely. "Say what?"

He continued to concentrate on the road but relished the feel of her eyes burning into his face. "What you just said."

"What? That I love you just the way you are?"

He grinned. "Yeah."

She turned in her seatbelt and leaned in closer to him. "I love you _just_ the way you are," she repeated in little more than a whisper, that distinct Southern drawl sending a pleasurable shiver down the length of his back.

* * *

An hour later Logan turned off the now practically deserted highway, parked in his usual spot between two majestic Douglas Firs, and they started their journey to Twostep's.

Logan watched Marie uneasily as the bracing air quickly swept in around them. "Are you sure you're warm enough?" But his initial concern quickly made way for amusement when Marie rolled her eyes in mock exasperation.

"Stop fussing, Logan. That's the third time in ten minutes you've asked me.." She squeezed his hand. "I'm fine." She breathed deeply, a wistful smile crossing her lips. "In fact I feel great." She glanced around her, beautiful face awe-struck. "God, Logan. I can understand just why you love this place. It's simply breathtaking."

He pulled her against him and wrapped his arm around her. "You don't know how good it makes me feel, hearing you say that."

"But it's true. How can anyone not love it out here?"

"You don't think it's too cold? A lot of people can't hack it for long."

"No, it's perfect," she insisted. "So...so...pure."

He couldn't help but react to that word, having had so many issues with it during the past year, and he flinched momentarily in his stride, an action that didn't go unnoticed.

"What is it, Logan?"

He swallowed uncomfortably. "Nothing, babe."

"You're lying."

He forced a smile. "Can't hide anything from you, can I?"

She tapped her head with a gloved hand. "I know you too well, sugar."

He stopped them in their tracks and turned to face her, taking her hands in his. "That word."

Her eyes searched his face. "What word?"

"Pure."

She frowned, confused. "I don't understand."

He briefly glanced away, staring at the trees that lined their path, at the fluffy white snow that rested upon the branches and pinecones, as it sparkled enchantingly in the sun.

"Logan?"

He looked back at her, noting how the cold had brought out the colour of her cheeks, which in turn emphasised the youthful sparkle in her eyes. With those shocking white locks framing her dark hair she looked striking, like a modern day Snow Queen. "That's why I left," he admitted eventually. "You were so innocent, so pure. I was frightened of...I dunno...tainting you."

Her shock made way for frustration. "Tainting me? Oh Logan, how could you ever think that? Surely you realise by now that I've got three men kicking around up here." She gestured to her head again. "I lost what you term as_ purity_ a long time ago."

He shrugged. "I thought you deserved better."

Her frustration turned to disappointment. "Do you still think this? Because if you do, it's got to stop now."

He smiled gently, loving the way she bossed him around. "I did. Up until a few days ago."

She cocked her head curiously, a light breeze teasing her hair. "And what made you change your mind?"

He claimed her eyes, drinking in the anticipation that filled them. "Realising that I couldn't live without you anymore," he announced hoarsely, barely able to get out the words through the emotion that was suddenly overwhelming him.

She sighed happily but he also sensed a certain degree of relief in the gesture. "That's good to hear." Reaching up to his face she brushed away a lock of hair from his forehead. "Because you're the best thing to ever come into my life."

Her words made him feel alarmingly dizzy and disorientated and he pulled her into his chest, burying his face into her hair to hide the tears that were suddenly pricking at his eyes. There was no denying it, he had come a long way, becoming more like pansy-assed Scott than he'd care to admit, but he wasn't ready for her to see him cry. There were still traces of the old Logan continuing to linger stubbornly, that couldn't quite let go.

When he felt her wrap her arms around him he felt so happy that he quite literally didn't know how to handle it. It was still so new to him, still so alien, that he almost didn't recognise himself and all he could do was murmur her name, over and over into her soft sweet scented hair.

He sensed her smile. "Logan," she said softly in return, and the feel of her breath against his skin made him tremble. She seemed intent on soothing him and he didn't deny her the need; he welcomed it.

Finally pulling away from her neck, he sought out her mouth, her lips warm despite the harsh conditions, and in an insane moment he found himself hungering for her mutation, longing to devour her completely, so that she could be in his head as well as his heart, just like he was in hers.

However, he could also settle with kissing her forever.

But just then the shrill sound of a bird wrenched his attention and he pulled reluctantly away from her, glancing into the sky hopefully.

She followed his gaze, her cheeks flushed even more from their kiss. "Twostep?" she asked, and he was pleased to note the stirrings of excitement in her voice.

Noting that the bird was indeed an eagle he grinned. "Yeah." He shook his head light-heartedly. "Showing off as usual."

He reached for Marie's hand again, quickly feeling agitated now if he wasn't touching her in some shape or form, surprised by his own growing excitement, the fact that he was very soon going to be introducing the only two people he really cared about; who meant the world to him.

He corrected himself - who _were_ his world.

Twostep performed his usual routine, Logan observed in affectionate amusement. A procession of dramatic swoops and daring dives with some added screams to provide a hint of drama. Logan even noted a few new moves that he guessed had been added for Marie's benefit.

He had expected Twostep to fly away at the end of his display, back to his cave dwelling, with the intension of meeting them there, but to Logan's surprise the eagle swooped closer than usual and suddenly headed straight for them, plunging somewhat perilously to the earth.

Logan frowned his alarm but then his eyes widened in astonishment as the bird stopped before them, fluttering a moment on the crisp still air, before metamorphosing into the man known as Twostep, complete with furs and boots. In all the time Logan had known the man, he had never seen him actually shape-shift.

But what shocked Logan even more was the fact that the old man wasn't even registering his presence, instead heading straight for Marie, his wizened face filled with what looked like joy amidst his own great bewilderment.

For a few moments he simply stared at Marie but then he reached across to place a hand upon her arm affectionately. "Marion?"

Marie looked across at Logan for support. "I...I'm Marie."

Twostep smiled after his initial shock had faded. "Maybe now you are, but you were Marion when I knew you last." His beady black eyes wandered over her face. "And it is really you. The aura is most definitely the same." He searched her face. "And I sense your own recognition, even though it is not apparent to you yet." His smile widened. "Welcome home, child. I've missed you."

Logan didn't know what the hell Twostep was talking about, and his confusion made him angry. "What's all this about Twostep?"

The old man regarded Logan for the first time. "You really have found one another again. I didn't think it would ever be possible. But time really has given you a second chance."

"Who is Marion?" Logan questioned, but he found himself hesitating. Why did the name seem so very familiar? And why did it stir him so strongly?

Twostep watched him steadily, conflicting waves of hope and pity sweeping across his face. "She is your wife."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Trust..._**

Logan stared at Twostep blankly. "My wife?" He ran a hand through his hair restlessly - this was way too much for him to process all at once. Nothing was making sense...and yet...he frowned, perplexed...it seemed to be making perfect sense even though he didn't know how or why. It was all so god-damn frustrating...like the answers were there, locked up in his head, but he had no keys to unlock the doors. He groaned beneath his breath. Why did that feel so fucking familiar?

"I think you need to slow down and start explaining," he demanded gently. He glanced across at Marie who seemed as dazed as he was.

Twostep nodded. "Although I think it would be better to show you."

Logan frowned again. "Show us? None of your riddles, Twostep. Give it to us straight."

"Just follow me."

Before they could protest the old man shape-shifted back into his eagle form and soared up into the sky, hovering on the wind a moment before drifting away from them and they realised that they had no choice but to follow.

"What's going on, Logan?" Marie pleaded as he grabbed for her hand and began to lead her rather impatiently through the snow.

"Fuck knows," he admitted gruffly, at the same time feeling a stab of guilt at his shortness. He realised that his offhanded manner was because he was scared. Scared and excited and impatient and - he halted his chain of thought, rolling his eyes despairingly - more fucking emotions! - he'd be wearing dresses and drinking tea next.

Their eyes never left the bird that seemed to dance in and out of the trees as if it were suddenly the happiest creature to ever grace the skies. The cold didn't seem to be affecting them now; in fact they had become oblivious to their surroundings ever since Twostep had made an appearance.

"What does he mean by wife?" Marie blurted anxiously. "Could this be something to do with that memory of yours?"

"I'd count on it."

"He said that he knew me, Logan."

"I heard him, babe."

"But how can that be?"

He managed a teasing smile, suddenly feeling bad for being so abrupt with her, who had never been anything but patient with him, pulling her into his arms again as they walked. "Hey! Don't expect to find answers with me, darlin'."

She peered up at him, returning the smile somewhat sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I trust him," he reassured gently. "I've always trusted him. Don't worry..."

"I'm not really worried," she admitted. "Still hopeful, I suppose."

"Yeah, me too," and he realised that he wasn't just lying to make her feel better.

"But do you know why?" Her eyes sparkled excitedly. "I feel as if I know him too. And not just because I have your memories of him in my head." She hesitated before adding: "When he greeted me I was overwhelmed by the strangest of feelings. It's hard to explain. Like an intense relief."

He couldn't summon an answer to that but her words somehow reinforced his own optimism. He had never been one for being positive. Had always seen the beer bottle half empty rather than half full, but Marie seemed to bring out a different side to him. A side he liked.

They tracked Twostep for some time, turning off the path that Logan usually followed and heading deeper into the forest. They remained silent for most of the journey, too preoccupied with keeping their eyes on their guide, and too filled with their own inner thoughts and questions, although their hands remained tightly held as if they were frightened to let go of one another.

They saw Twostep's destination before he reached it, however, and their mouths fell open in shock.

Logan felt as if he had been whacked in the chest with a sledgehammer. "Holy shit."

He heard Marie gasp. "Is it really the same place?"

There was no doubt about it. It _was_ the same place. The cabin from the memory. A little bit rundown but a stark reality nonetheless. Complete with veranda, where in another time, another Logan had stood embracing another Marie...

Twostep swooped down onto the very veranda and swiftly became his human form once again. He regarded them with a wry smile. "You can approach. It won't bite," he teased affectionately.

Logan remained rooted to the spot but to his surprise Marie slipped her hand from his and began to walk through the undisturbed snow towards the cabin.. He watched her with baited breath as her hair danced seductively around her shoulders, caught in a light breeze. When she saw that he was not following she glanced back at him questioningly. "Logan?"

"Just...just give me a minute, darlin'."

She smiled lovingly and nodded, turning back to resume her short journey. His heightened senses picked up her own intake of breath, her scent saturated with nervous wonder as it drifted back over him, and he inhaled it like it was an addictive perfume.

He watched the scene unfolding before him with a lump in his throat, as Marie climbed the steps to the veranda and embraced Twostep as if she had always known him, and as they turned to look back at him, standing together in front of the cabin door, there was something about their actions that seemed achingly familiar, and he closed his eyes, closed them tight, trying to remember.

But Marie's voice, calling him over, forced him to open his eyes again and he slouched, heavy-hearted through the snow, hoping that the memory he had wouldn't be a one off. At the top of the veranda steps he pulled her into his arms again and watched Twostep with desperate eyes. "Tell me one thing. Me and Marie. Are we...are we related?"

The old man smiled knowingly. "No."

The relief that washed over him was so immense that the Wolverine within howled his elation. When Marie clung to him tighter at Twostep's words, he recognised her own joy and wrapped his arm around her neck, urging her into his chest to bury his face into her hair, kissing the top of her head tenderly.

But his moment of happiness was short lived when questions assailed him again. "But how do you know?" he demanded as Twostep regarded their play of affection warmly.

Twostep gestured to the cabin. "Come inside. Let's get a fire going first."

The interior of the cabin smelt musty and stale and housed very little furniture - the main room containing only a table, chairs and an ancient looking chest of drawers. The windows were dirty, the curtains threadbare, and a layer of dust covered everything like a fine shroud. The place had obviously been used rarely over the years, but once they got a fire going it soon heated up pleasantly.

Looking around, Logan strained to conjure up another memory of this place, what it might have looked like whilst he - and Marie? - had lived here, but frustratingly his mind remained a blank. Admitting defeat he moved to stand by the fire, staring down idly into the rapidly building flames, his back to Marie and Twostep who sat at the table. Finally he turned, folding his arms.

"Well?" he asked, his stare penetrating the old man urgently. "How is all of this possible? How can you bring us to a place that was in _my_ memory. A place that you knew nothing of?"

"Because I helped you build it."

For some reason Logan had expected something incredible so he wasn't entirely taken by surprise by Twostep's declaration. "How long ago?"

"Don't look so alarmed, not as long ago as you might think."

"How long?" Logan repeated impatiently.

"About twenty years ago. Although don't think that is an indication of your actual age. That stretches back a little longer."

Longer? But how - ?

The sudden knowledge hit him full pelt, such a blow to his senses that he was momentarily light headed and he had to reach for the wall for support.

"Logan?" he heard Marie call out in concern, but he was too shocked to summon a response, as it slowly dawned on him that all this time Twostep had known exactly who he was and what his past was.

He stared at the old man in disbelief. "You know?" he demanded bitterly. "You know my past?" He suddenly felt cold despite the warmth of the fire. "Why? Why didn't you tell me this before?" His anger flared. "Fifteen years I've been searching - fifteen fucking hellish years." He looked at the old man in dismay. "Why?"

Twostep was unintimidated by his menacing display and deep down Logan expected nothing less from the old man. He felt his anger slowly ebb away but his hands continued to shake.

"It was important that you discovered - that you discover - the answers for yourself."

Logan clenched his fists, tired of being so frustrated all the time. "You sound like Chuck," he snarled. "Sure you don't shape-shift into him too?"

Twostep sighed quietly. "The mind is complex and easily manipulated by outside intervention. Telling you your past would have done you no good in the long run. Memories should be genuine, not forced. And I have never doubted that they will one day return."

"I think he's right," he heard Marie add and he snapped his gaze onto her. "I hate to think how much you've suffered these past fifteen years but..." she faltered. "Maybe it was all for a purpose."

"What purpose?" he returned gruffly, his mind a maelstrom of conflict.

She ignored his bad temper. "To bring us back together." She got up from the chair and crossed the room towards him, slipping into his arms before turning back to Twostep. "Please carry on. Ignore old grumpy-face, here."

At her teasing words Logan felt his heart constrict again and he couldn't help but smile - even if it was strained and grudging. Marie could always chase his shadows away, whether he wanted her to or not.

"Logan," Twostep resumed. "I'm not going to tell you every detail because I think that you will very soon be discovering them for yourself anyway."

"I got that part. Get on with it, old man," Logan pushed, trying desperately to make his words light-heartedly when, deep down, he wanted to claw at the furniture.

"The woman in your arms is, indeed, your wife. Or, at least, was your wife in her previous incarnation. Her name was Marion Keating and she died roughly twenty years ago; in this very cabin."

Logan felt the blood drain away from his face.

"I know that you are not related, that Marie isn't a descendent of hers, because your only child died with her, at birth."

"We had a child?" Logan whispered hoarsely. He had lost Marie _and_ their child?

Twostep nodded gravely. "You named him Kai."

Kai, Logan acknowledged mournfully, instantly grieving for his lost son. He liked the name, and found himself wondering who had chosen it - him or Marie or both. The thought of Marie being pregnant with his child filled him with pride and a deep primal satisfaction until the loss overwhelmed him again. He forced down his pain as the old man continued.

"After their deaths you changed for the worst, became angry and bitter, joining forces with a military man known as Stryker who was based not far from here, and whom you had worked with once before, before you met Marion. Although I do not know all the facts, I believe that he took full advantage of your vulnerable state and in doing so persuaded you to -"

Logan didn't need his memories back to know what he was about to say, allowing the claws of his right hand to shoot out. "To have these?"

Twostep nodded.

"That bastard," Logan growled. "I should have sliced him apart."

Marie squeezed him comfortingly. "He's dead now, Logan. It's over."

Logan retracted the claws, realising that she was right, reminding himself that he had just spent the past year coming to terms with the same conclusion. It _was_ over. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." His throat burnt now when he tried to swallow, his words almost painful to get out.

"I am sorry that I kept the truth from you, Logan, but I believe that it was the right thing to do."

Logan looked at the old man in front of him, _really_ looked at him, finally accepting that he had been the only light, besides Marie, that had ever managed to pierce through the darkness that had consumed his heart for so long; telling himself that whatever reason Twostep had for keeping the truth from him, it would have been the right reason. Twostep was an enigma, that couldn't be denied, but his goodness had always been predominant.

Logan scrubbed a hand across his face. "Just tell me who I am and all will be forgiven," he tried to joke.

Twostep looked wary.

"Or is that something I've got to _discover_ for myself too?"

"I told you about Marion because you found Marie...it is your first step...your mind is beginning to calm and through doing so I believe that your memories will start to become more assessable. All this time I feel that your rage and bitterness was actually holding them back."

"So that's a no, I take it?" Logan groaned.

"For now, be happy that you and Marion -" he corrected himself. "You and Marie, have found each other again. That you have been given a second chance. Everything else will fall into place."

Logan nodded reluctantly although in all honesty, he felt relieved. He had learnt more than enough today. Good things. Things that made his heart soar. But he had learnt bad things too. Heart-wrenching things. He thought of his son. And of Marie, as Marion, dying in his arms. But then the rough always did run with the smooth. It was a fact of life, especially his.

He sensed Marie fidget beside him and was suddenly overwhelmed by her sadness as it enveloped them both.

"What happened to our son?" she whispered to Twostep.

The old man nodded and rose slowly from his chair. "Come with me."

The graves were located on the edge of the property, just into the trees; two beautifully carved wooden crosses simply baring the names Marion and Kai.. The glass vases on each plot contained fresh flowers and the area had been recently cleared of snow.

Logan dropped to his knees as he tried to focus on the graves. "My family?"

"Your past," Twostep offered quietly.

Logan glanced back at Marie, tears pricking at his eyes. "This is too fucking weird. How can I grieve for you when you're here?"

"Grieve for your son; rejoice the return of your wife," Twostep insisted.

Logan noticed that Marie looked a little pale and he immediately rose to comfort her. "What is it, darlin'?"

"I can grieve for our son." The tears pricked at her own eyes. "God, I'm grieving already." She gestured to the grave marked Marion. "But that -" He saw her shudder. "It gives me the shivers. Knowing that _I'm_ down there?"

"You are _not_ down there," Twostep corrected. "Your empty shell is down there, that is all. It is nothing without the soul. A soul that now resides in you. A very much alive you."

"He's right, Marie," Logan tried to reassure, although he could understand how freaked out she must be feeling.

She sighed. "And my son's soul? Where is that now?"

"Perhaps waiting for his mother and father to give _him _a second chance too."

Logan was relieved to see a flicker of a smile cross her lips at Twostep's words and when he caught her eye he offered his own smile.

"I kinda like that thought," he whispered huskily, taking her into his arms and forgetting all about Twostep. "And now we're not related..." He grinned down at her, a feral look blazing in his eyes. "Although I think we should get plenty of practice in first."

He loved to make her blush but there could be no mistaking the desire that flared up into her own eyes. "Can this really be happening?" she whispered dreamily. "Us? Married? Having a child? Losing everything only to find it again?"

"It looks like it," he returned, still pretty much stunned himself by everything that had happened. He hadn't had all of his questions answered but regardless of Twostep's promises, he also felt that it would only be a matter of time before things became clear. He had waited this long, he was sure he could hold out for a little bit longer. The main thing was that Marie was _his_. _ Could_ be his. His need to claim her swept through him, the Wolverine hungering it, craving it, demanding to be sated - forever impatient. But Logan was surprised by a conflicting need - to take things slow, eager to imprint every new memory of her into his mind with the utmost clarity. With care and love. For the first time in fifteen years he was going to make love to a woman, not have sex with her. Marie might be a virgin, but in a sense, it was going to be his first time too. And he wanted it to be special.

He took one final look at the graves - at his past - then turned to face the future.

_Marie._


	14. Chapter 14

**_One Year Later_**

The cabin had never seen so many people and Logan was concerned that the old place might not hold up to the steady stream of feet pounding its sensitive floors. He hoped all of the improvements made upon it over the past year had been extensive enough.

With a smile tugging at his lips he scanned the room - no longer dusty or dirty or smelling of years of neglect. It looked and felt exactly what it was - home. Like it had been before, when Marie had been Marion, and they had first loved one another. Frustratingly, he may not have had anymore returned memories, but he and Marie were creating plenty of new ones to fill the void.

He inhaled deeply. The room smelt wonderfully of Marie's sweet scent laced with the delicious aromas of home cooking. Glancing across at the lavish buffet spread that Marie, Jubilee and Storm had spent most of the morning preparing he licked his lips, suddenly craving another chicken wing.

As he reached down for one of the more generous sized portions he heard someone enter the room and immediately recognised Scooter's scent. All of the guests were outside, drawn to the barbeque that Bobby and Hank were tending, but, much to his amusement, Scott seemed partial to the tiny crust-free sandwiches Marie had made on a whim.

Abandoning his chicken wing for the moment he turned with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "You after more of those itty-bitty sandwiches, Summers?" he mocked. "You really are the little woman, aren't you?"

Scott grinned good-humouredly. "You're one to talk. Mr D'Ancanto!"

Logan frowned. Yeah - that last name thing had caused a few problems at the ceremony.

"Well, she could hardly call herself Mrs Logan, could she?" he growled. "I still don't know my full name and Twostep ain't intent on telling me. We had to use something so decided Marie's last name would do. Just until I get my memory back."

"Logan D'Ancanto," Scott rolled upon his tongue teasingly. "Hm. Suits you."

"Yeah and fuck you too, Summers." But despite his gruff retort Logan realised he was grinning. He didn't really care who was called what. What mattered was that they were married. That Marie was his wife again.

"Please don't swear when you're wearing that tux, sugar, it doesn't do it justice," they suddenly heard Marie reprimand and they turned to look at her as she stood in the doorway, hands on hips defiantly. She looked positively stunning, her ivory off-the-shoulder wedding gown sexily figure-hugging, her long hair piled on the top of her head, adorned with a tasteful crown of tiny flowers.

Scott smirked and Logan rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. "I told you woman, I ain't got no intention of changing who I am just because I'm wearing some fancy suit." He strode over to her, slipping his arms around her waist to pull her close. "Although I might make an exception," his gaze devoured her hungrily. "Since you look so gorgeous."

Marie laughed happily and Logan felt that he had never seen her look so beautiful. "Flattery will get you everywhere." She reached up to readjust the carnation in his buttonhole. "So, are you gonna stay hiding out in here all day or come help us with the barbeque?"

"How can I refuse you anything, darlin?"

Scott passed them clutching several sandwiches, coughing the word 'hen-pecked' as he returned outside.

"Say that again, Summers, and I'll ram those sandwiches where the sun don't shine."

Although Marie grinned at his words she couldn't help but look at him strangely. "You OK, sugar? You seem...kinda tetchy?"

He scrubbed a hand across his face. "Got a bit of a headache brewing, that's all." He smiled warmly. "Probably all the excitement." The truth was, his head had been aching on and off all day and it felt decidedly strange.. With his healing factor he wasn't used to niggling ailments, however minor.

Marie frowned worriedly. "But Logan, you don't get headaches." She reached up to brush her hand tentatively across his forehead and into his hair. "Perhaps you should talk to the professor," she hesitated. "Or Twostep."

"Yeah...maybe," he returned, somewhat reluctantly, feeling bad for putting a damper on her big day. "Him and Chuck still nattering like a couple of old women?"

Marie nodded, smiling. "They seemed to have hit it off really well." She glanced back through the open door and he followed her gaze to where Twostep and Charles sat talking animatedly. "Looking at them," she started. "The Professor in his pressed Armani suit and Twostep in his braids and furs - they couldn't look more different. Yet I think they're more alike than we realise."

"Couldn't agree with you more, darlin,' he agreed jokingly. "Both a couple of smart-asses."

As they turned to look at one another again he found himself casting a lustful stare down at her cleavage, marvelling at how well the bodice of her dress flattered her beautiful breasts. Reaching across he gently teased her bare shoulder with his teeth. "Can't wait until all the X-geeks go. You know what follows a wedding day," he breathed into her neck and was pleased to feel her shudder, the scent of her arousal seriously tempting him to manhandle her into the bedroom and forget all about their guests. "A wedding night."

"Can't wait," she returned breathlessly.

"I also thought it was about time we gave that kid of ours a second chance."

She met his intense stare excitedly. "Oh, yes, Logan. Nothing would make me happier."

Logan was about to reach up to claim her lips when a searing pain suddenly shot through his skull, taking him unawares. He quickly pulled away from her, clutching at his head. "Holy fuck!"

"Logan!"

He staggered back into the room, crashing into the buffet table with a thud and didn't even register Marie's screams for help.

Continuing to squeeze his head in his hands in a desperate bid to quash the pain, he fell forward, his knees slamming down onto the hard wood floor. He had never experienced pain like it and his eyes blinked back tears of agony as he hunched forward with a strangled groan.

He was vaguely aware of commotion around him, people talking at once, and Marie's sobs, as she demanded to know what was wrong with him. He longed to reassure her but the pain was so debilitating that all he could do was wait for it to pass. Hope for it to pass. But it seemed to be getting worst. So much worst...

He couldn't tell whether the cry that ripped through his senses came from within him or were expressed aloud but when his torment reached its peak and he felt that his head was surely about to explode everything suddenly went dark. But to his relief the pain was gone. The cutting silence that followed came as a welcome respite and he allowed it to sweep around and devour him without resistance.

And just before he lost consciousness he suddenly knew everything. Exactly who and what he was.

His prayers had finally been answered.

He only hoped the knowledge wasn't going to cost him his life.

* * *

Logan awoke with a start, his mind surprisingly clear and focused, and so light it felt as if every last trace of adamantium had been drained from his skull. He blinked, focusing on the woman who sat at his bedside, her face tear-stained, make-up smeared.

He felt terrible.

"I had to fucking ruin your big day, didn't I?" he growled.

She sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "You didn't mean it." She laid her head on his chest. "I'm just glad you're OK."

"How long have I been out?"

"A couple of hours."

"Christ," he reached up to stroke her hair. "I'm sorry, Darlin'"

She pulled away and forced a smile. "Stop apologising."

He glanced around him. "Where is everybody?"

"Hank is still here to keep an eye on you; everyone else returned to Charles' cabin." She shrugged. "They wanted to stay but I insisted they go. I thought you'd prefer to wake up without an audience."

"Always thinking of me," he whispered lovingly. "I don't deserve ya, darlin'"

Marie rolled her eyes. "Don't let's go down that road again."

He laughed. "Sorry."

"You're apologising!"

At that moment Hank McCoy entered the room, his face erupting into the warmest yet most peculiar smile that could only be expected from a blue furry mutant with a heart of gold. "Ah! He wakes!"

"Hey there, doc."

Hank checked his heart rate. "Any pain still?"

"Nope."

The doctor proceeded to pry his eyelids higher, examining his pupils with a tiny penlight. "How do you feel?"

"I feel great."

Moving away Hank frowned. "I would really like to return you to the Institute where I can give you a full brain scan."

"I'm fine."

Hank nodded. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But at the first sign of any further pain -"

"You'll be the first to know," Logan cut him off. "Thanks."

Hank reached down to give Marie a farewell squeeze. "We'll be staying at Charles' cabin until tomorrow afternoon. We'd love to see you both again before we leave."

Marie smiled into his soft fur. "We'll try to make it."

When he had gone Marie stared at Logan urgently. "What happened?"

He smiled, suddenly feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. "They came back."

She gasped. "Your memories?"

"You betcha-ass they did!" He started to rise from the bed. "Twostep still here?"

Marie frowned. "He disappeared after we put you to bed. I admit I was a little thrown by it."

Logan's grin widened. "He knows."

"That you got your memory back?"

"Yeah. He knows that I know exactly who he is." Throwing back the covers Logan began to search for his clothes.

"Logan, should you be out of bed?"

"I'm fine, darlin'" He pulled his jeans up his legs. "I've just got to find him."

"Twostep?" she looked disappointed. "But aren't you going to tell me who you are? I've been waiting for these elusive memories too, you know."

Bare-chested, his jeans undone, he reached for her, cradling her face in his hands to claim her stare. "I've got to do this, baby. It's important. I know that I'm a shit for doing it, but I'll be back in no time at all, and then I'll tell you everything."

Her eyes searched his face desperately and to his relief he saw sudden understanding flare into them. "I trust you, Logan," she whispered gently and she reached across to kiss him. He responded passionately, never tiring of her soft warm mouth, of her sweet addictive taste. When they finally pulled apart he smiled a smile straight from his heart. "I'll be back in no time at all," he repeated firmly.

Marie grinned. "Promise?"

He smiled back. "Yeah."

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

Logan hurried through the snowy landscape, the memories sweeping through his mind now and he didn't think he could stop them if he tried. It was like his brain had suddenly become a mini Cerebro and he was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the images as, one after another, they battled for attention.

Cigar wedged between his lips, he searched the sky constantly for Twostep, every bird cry making him start, but the heaven's remained frustratingly empty of shape shifters. He hoped that the old man would be back at his cave - he didn't have time to search the wilderness for him -not when he had a beautiful woman waiting for him who didn't deserve to be abandoned like this on her wedding day.

~I trust you, Logan~. Her words washed through his senses, riding the waves of his new memories. She was his light, no fucking doubt about it. His wife, his friend, his lover - his world. And not for the first time that day he thanked time for giving them this second chance.

He practically ran up the gently mountain incline to Twostep's dwelling and by the time he reached his destination he was wheezing like an old man, his healing factor trying desperately to catch up with him.

Twostep sat before his small fire, exactly as he had just over a year ago, when Logan had first told him about Marie. Catching his breath, Logan scowled at him. "Why'd you leave? I've got a wife waiting at home, you know."

The old man looked up at him and Logan only just made out his shrug beneath the layers of fur. He raised an eyebrow. "I do believe that my wise old friend is wordless for once in his life."

"There's a first time for everything," Twostep insisted quietly.

Logan squatted down in front of the flames, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why didn't you tell me? I can understand - even accept - the reason why you didn't tell me about my other memories, but to keep this one from me?"

Twostep looked at him steadily. "Would you believe me if I told you I was scared?"

Logan frowned, puzzled. "Scared of what?"

The old man shrugged again. "I don't know."

Logan still couldn't believe what his new memories were telling him. "I never would've imagined having a native Indian for a father."

"Your mother was American," Twostep reminded, assuming that Logan now had the memories to back up his words.

Logan nodded, the image of her suddenly bringing a lump to his throat. "I can see her now," he revealed quietly. "She was a beautiful woman. And a devoted mother."

Logan was sorry that he would never see her again. "You must miss her."

"We had our time together. I will always cherish it." Twostep summoned a fleeting smile. "Besides, she continues to sing to us on the wind. I told you this when you were a boy."

"I remember," Logan grinned. Fuck, it felt so good to remember again! To remember anything!

Logan suddenly recalled a snatch of conversation that he and Twostep had shared the last time they had sat face to face. ~"You're not a mutant, are you?" he had asked the old man, who in return had responded with: "I never said I was."~

"We're not mutants, are we?" he shrugged watching Twostep questioningly. "Can't seem to find a memory to answer this one."

Twostep frowned. "Yes and no. You could say that our ancestors were the first mutants. When animals evolved into humans, some of us continued to cling to our more feral heritage, desiring the best of both worlds. We evolved into shape shifters, part animal, part human."

"But I can't shape shift," Logan pointed out.

"No. Your mother was human so your inherited gene became diluted. But the animalistic part of you continues to reside within you. You know him as Wolverine."

Logan shook his head, bewildered. "Everything is so clear now it almost hurts. The doors are wide open and everything is competing for acknowledgment at once."

"But it feels good, yes?"

Logan took a deep breath. "Fucking good."

Twostep looked concerned. "But your time with this - Stryker?"

Logan scrubbed a hand across his face. "Let's just say I did some things I'm not proud of, but they weren't as bad as I feared. I'm gonna keep that door locked."

Twostep nodded, grinning teasingly. "How does it feel? Being almost a century old?"

"To be honest, I was worried it was gonna be a lot more." He hesitated, before adding: "I can live with it."

"That is good to hear."

Logan stared into the fire a moment, once again mesmerised by the rise and fall of the flames. Eventually he focused on Twostep once more. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Enlighten me."

"There was a part of me that always thought of you as my father."

"And I never stopped looking at you as my son."

Logan slowly stood up. "I've got to get back to Marie."

Twostep also rose. "Of course you do. You have new memories to make."

Logan watched him for a moment, feeling the love for Twostep swell within him. Unable to stop himself he moved across to embrace the old man. "Father," he growled emotionally, feeling like a child again - the child he now had memories of - the child who had grown up in this wilderness and made it a part of him - every tree, every mountain, every lake, every living creature - like mini pulses of life racing through his soul.

And he suddenly realised that his heart was no longer conflicted, no longer in pieces, it was finally whole again.

"My son," Twostep soothed back. "Welcome home."

The End

* * *

___NOTE - I know that I've probably been a bit sketchy with the returned memories situation but I thought it better that way. I'll let you fill in the blanks - create your own memories for Logan. Since he's such a great character to play with._

I'm not sure what you made of Twostep being Logan's father but it just felt right, to me at least.

I didn't include any smut in the end. I was tempted but I finally decided against it. Hope you don't mind. *Grin*

*Relieved sigh* There - finished! I like angst but I can never resist a happy ending. Thanks for reading. Please leave feedback, good or bad. I always appreciate it.


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